I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte (colubra) wrote in metaquotes,
I'd forgotten how often we saw Magritte

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But let me tell you, that beauty is nothing -- the barest carbon copy -- compared to the sound of a fax machine that finds itself dialing a wrong number. At that first moment of misrecognition, the squeals take on a truly anguished character, the very soul of loneliness calling into the unanswering void. But then, moments later, a betrayed roaring: the beast's claws have come out. Angrier and angrier in its modulation, one can hear its talons tearing and digging in, as they seek purchase and release.

icecreamemperor in an entry that left me screaming laughter: his explanation of why the evil fax machines keep calling us.
I just keep snickering.
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