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YourMind

YourMind

ELISE RICCI

Losing YourMind

Everything is suspended.  How frozen.  The days always slip away the same and, if it were not for the natural alternation of sleep and wakefulness, it would seem to live within a single day without end.  As automata, unconscious, we repeat endlessly the same words, the same gestures and the same procedures that our role imposes, for the most part useless, or perhaps useful only to make us feel less useless.

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