domingo, 8 de dezembro de 2019

The pink ants are on your democratic council. Their lands are explored to exhaustion. They unanimously decide to leave, to cross the mountains.
    For this they invented the stick, had for the first time a tool derived from work for war, the war with the insurmountable mountain. The gathered crowd looks at the embers of the last night, on the way there are thirty days to meet the walls.
    They look back and see their domineering temples of their imaginations glittering in the metallic gold of the sun. They signify their hierarchy and tasks, they are a huge ensemble, and the larvae of their food suffered from a disease of zoophilia and divinatory practice. Their land is dust and there are no sprouts. Live Beyond Needs

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