In the hills of Bihar India, at a place called Dungeshwari there is a cave of black stone hewn into the earth where Gautama practised asceticism. The cave is fronted by a tree clinging to the rock with its long rooty arms. From here looking down to the villages below ghastly hordes gather to swarm and grasp for why they ache. So we overdose them and I think maybe just maybe they will become saturated with fighting at death for morsels of liquor soaked confections. Or maybe just maybe the wrathful protectress of what is unknown will spare a few of us from the decrepit mind that does not let be.

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