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- More than a little stoned, he spent all evening pacing his room with the lights off and the blinds drawn, smoking one cigarette after another and delivering a wild-eyed rant to the “audience” of grotesque demon faces he’d drawn in black Magic Marker on the wall of his apartment. “Soul cancers” plaguing civilization, the approaching end of human history and various sinister government mind-control programs were among his top talking points. Friends were in agreement: His recreational drug use had entered its terminal stage.
- Exile from Reality | Fiada Fey
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