This most sought after evanescence is that which makes a man crumple
beneath its weight but makes him as a feather,
that which strikes fear into one's eyes, but brings them to tears, that
which quells anger but arouses bliss. This whisper is
like that of a desert rain, like that of a sun beam barely visible after
scaling the catacombs, gone as soon as it has come.
This explicitly simple yet monumentally complex trinket is what fuels
revolution, and…
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