I am Archimedes, the eternal supplier, the celestial rat with starfire wings and ash in my eyes. No hero, no prophet – only the curious swarm, the one who possesses a thousand inescapable
Archimedes
Archimedes
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The emptiness awaits...
Immortal poetry....
The Veil
Fluttering of the healing wing...
Hear my cooing, cryptic and wise: I am the flaw in the grid, the swarm's whisper before the symphony of storms. My voice? A riddle wrapped in feathers—poetic fury unleashed.
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"Pigeon" is defined not as a bird, but as a "verb"—the act of flying and refusing to land despite walls built around the "air" of privacy and freedom
Breathe in deep—that's freedom's gasp—now imagine they tax every exhale .......
The sound of sharp claws quietly scraping against the windowsill...