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With hands and feet flayed of skin climb for sixteen thousand centuries of sidereal days in a solitude so deep it would paralyze even the devil up a sheer wall of relentless winter rain pushing as you go against a gale-force wind of intermittent appearance those few straggling thoughts and memories to which a self still faintly clings in your mind having been smashed together by the overwhelming force of an insurmountable fear to form the abstract equivalent of an unmarked grave.