Their voices split the night like lightning coming to wait for applause, standing half bowed in a dumbstruck room. They seep through cracks in walls holding onto torches, unknown streetlights shedding sound on corners of consciousness no one knows. Looking at history through coffeeshops and stale diners through meaningless conversations with themselves muttering fragments of phrases inaudible. Alone. At a table, laughing, dancing with old friends. Nonetheless: alone.
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Updated Thursday, 04-Mar-2004 14:58:32 PST