The Faded Frequency
The ink on this page has long since dried into the color of old bruises, a dark and iridescent purple that seems to pulse with a faint, residual heat whenever the autumn wind rattles the sash windows of my study, and I find myself compelled to transcribe these final entries not for the world at large, which cares little for the vanishing frequencies of the dead, but for the sake of my own...
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