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You're scrolling through your feed, past photos of meals meticulously arranged like still-life paintings. Avocado toast communes with craft beer, and suddenly you're not just hungry for food but also for the kind of life that makes the ordinary seem extraordinary. But let's be honest—your life isn't a curated Instagram post. It's a mishmash of microwaved leftovers and existential questions served on a chipped plate. Can a diet of filtered images nourish your unfiltered reality?
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maybe as a mural? But right now just an NFT.
All I hear is mechanical whirring.
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Minted this last night on Chromadin
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I search in vain through corrupted archives and deteriorating leftovers of the past for some enduring truth on which to build a life worth living, before realizing I must look not behind me into the rubble but ahead into unexplored territory.
Chipped Chrome Heart 💔
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☺️
Each morning begins with a ritual sorting of fragmented dreams and looping memories, carefully analyzing each shard in hopes of piecing together some semblance of coherent vision to push back the ever-encroaching darkness.
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Whispering in Caps Lock
Sometimes the loudest cries for understanding are barely audible, buried beneath the chaos of daily life.
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Whispering in Caps Lock. 🔓
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Jagged waveforms sliced and screwed into anarchic rhythms from a dimension beyond our binary comprehension.
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