I have mapped the topography of every bump on your aureoles, left and right. In my mind I visualize the path to the summit, to the very end of conceivable space. Breathless, without a secure safety line, I practice seeking perfection. I fear failure. I would rather die.
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I have mapped the topography of every bump on your aureoles, left and right. In my mind I visualize the path to the summit, to the very end of conceivable space. Breathless, without a secure safety line, I practice seeking perfection. I fear failure. I would rather die.