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As I entered the garage my mouth began to feel weird, as if it was full of cat hair, I felt certain it was in my throath and lungs too, but I couldn't do anything about it. My spine was blazing out of control and out came enormous pallid wings with sharp silhouettes of two-edged swords, as the children of Israel rotaded my horizons. I’m the first and the last, alive and dead, living forever and never born. The three columns of self, space and time merged as one. No more separation of self and what’s not the self, personal identity and all of existence became one and the same. No past, present and no future, timeless entrapment, the now of eternity, the never of always.
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Before I left the room I did an article about my friend Matte Hedenstrand’s Flathead Chop for DicE Magazine and when I spoke my voice were as many stormy waters and my eyes were like gas clouds with blueberry jam spilled in the middle.
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