The call of the cryptic beckons. It cries and it wails but I keep looking away. Hoping that my stubborn silence might subdue the cry of the cryptic. But that is so not how is goes. And I know it. I have always known it.
I should try speaking softly to me. That works, doesn't it? Softly I shall tread, only my footsteps would know of the journey I make.
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