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Post by lightbaron on Jan 17, 2014 17:44:04 GMT -5
Do not save my soul or subject me to the world, that those words make Ascended Masters are wallpaper decorating the flat walls of the tomb Thomas doubted and he touched Speak with me in the language of The Theatre where communication moves the cursor through spaces incorruptible by time The play ended before it began and they are cheering as each actor remembers their role
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Post by Aish on Jan 21, 2014 14:53:28 GMT -5
Shall I wax, we are the microdot, living and dying in the same moment. Your language, the tongue of the poet, is lush in its simplicity.
Absolutely adore your opening, S5, and well ok I love it all. The progression is damn near flawless.
I'm sure I shall return.
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Post by Veritas on Jan 21, 2014 16:23:11 GMT -5
Have you commented on the works of the others?
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Post by windfog on Feb 3, 2014 7:42:08 GMT -5
Vivid, dark and clever piece! I did read it yet but took a "break" for I was going to get it better. I like it! W.F.
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