Friday, July 09, 2004

46. Liquidator

I came to make you write a lot, a lot, and not necessarily about myself. At the begginning what was it? The Word. I made you speak how? In tongues. And I told you all to spread what? The Godspell. Monks copied for me. At the light of the press, don't you forget, the book was about me. Some centuries later, someone comes, gets it all digital, and everyone starts writing for the enemy. That's just great. Everything gets spreaded, nothing concentrates; and, the worse, no one writes worthy stuff.
But fear not; I'm back so I can liquidate this. By the way, call me Liquidator. Drink the glass of water and shun away this heavy burden. Come with me. I have something greater. Drink the glass of water.

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