No sign on origin or operation . . The miracle has disincluded itself by devouring itself! No shit. Not shut. No sale. All waves. Wagging. Chirping. Singing.
Maybe the world is more alive through my eyes and not via illegitimate nightmares. Illusion points to the tip of the nose from an immaculately untenable distance. Dropped in from nowhere . . No-thing meaning all in all. Registered sort of any how . . Passed through no source of efficiency.