The sound of his voice set the world a flutter. Reality gapped. Rippling wells formed, from which drained something that we unknownly needed. Is it a ghost? A premonition? I do not know but when I hear that sound again I know my clock has stuck none.
STRANGE SPANNERS being an accounting of strangeness of the warp and woof of my mind For those of you new here, think of this as 1/2 "Night Gallery" Our Motto: Nos somnium quisnam es futurus fatum quod insolitus tutus vos!
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