The Red Diary

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The Red Book Is mostly in Ashes, somewhere in the lower west side of  Manhatten. Whether of not it should have been written and from there, ever been read will always be in question. I feel some days that the red diary brought me to the United States. I feel some days that book owes me more than it gave. Some days I remember, that it gave me what it could and rest is up to me. We shall return and make glorious that wretched hearts he smashed into atoms. Find the point at which we become entangled and shoot forward with fresh vigor and dominate, the city that found us. The city we found within us. The city where we lived.

This book is ruin

because I want you to

read and you don’t have

time.

Or headspace

but really

this book is ruined

because I want you to read.

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