10pm and pausing, indecisive. Thinking in languages, both natural and formal, and sometimes mixing words and structures to end up in an odd dialect incomprehensible to anyone save oneself. But maybe at some point in every evening rational sense doesn't matter anymore, maybe at this point mental worlds that obey to language are largely irrelevant for a short period of time. (About to put down todays self of choice, store it in a safe place with its siblings, and let ones own borders to the outer sphere fade.)
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