Gliding fast in grass was a blast, but had nothing to do with the shortcut.
Turn left, save time, naive rider.
Press on, make amends, seek help and lose again. They have what you have but more. More than you've ever seen or even knew were left.
Meat and mechanism are harmonious here as is obstruction. Each will do his part, none with animosity.
You will seek, find, and seek again. Everything here is different but isn't.
They have their own world, crowded and dark, shallow each one.
Together they are massive and infinite. The machine is gone among the others.
All are together, but not with the others. World within world, all its own.
The tribes compressed and fully autonomous within the shortcut.
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