Some characters though, some characters, come to life! Mary Shelly's monsters of the mind. Let them grow I suppose.
From what single celled neurone flashings did these derivative derivations divide? Millions cubed played out their three dimensions. Paved paths followed, and followed once more recurring, a little to the left, a little to the right, branchings towards a perfection they imagine themselves to be.
And here they are to haunt me.
What ghosts are these?
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