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Sunday, 12 December 2010


Clichés desend from the heavens, a habitual smile of inevitable togetherness.
A frenzy of frollicity trancends the masses, competing against their own memories.
I glance to see foliage crippled by audacious snakes of commercialism.
On the square of despair, a pig on a podium.
It must be nearly Christmas.

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