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The ongoing project Doom, gloom, glory and bloom delves into the enigmatic dichotomy of the quotidian and its accordance with entropy: the gradual decline into disorder of all matter.

I would talk
And overhear
A slingshot
A one shot chance
A lucky game
Garden full of them
And inscripted in the mud
They would find me
Bleached by the sunlight
Engorged with rain
Brittle twigs all over my body
I would walk as a ghost
And come to life as a breeze
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