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The aged book filled with leaves turns to unveil a man, Atlas-like – bowed, broken, & torture racked on a wooden frame. In the book, crushed down and up again.

Millions say the words live. Entertain, and watch stony hearts become flesh. Others blame. And this way, remain the same: habitations of corpses. Who, rather than listen, rage. Saying the book’s aim is insane. Thus, death’s reign is...

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