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Anonymous07/30/26, 03:04No.25433070
Night of your birth. Thirty-three. The Leonids they were called. God how the stars did fall. I looked for blackness, holes in the heavens. The Dipper stove.
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Anon07/30/26, 03:08No.25433075
It's funny how I can immediately tell this is from Ulysses.Bloom has the most recognizable inner monologue/free indirect discourse in literature. I suppose he really is quite a remarkable character that Joyce has created.
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Anon07/30/26, 10:15No.25433586
Seethe anon. He is pale and thin he wears a thin and ragged Evangelion shirt. He stokes his penis. Outside lie dark turned fields with rags effay and darker 7-11s beyond that harbor yet a few last tendies. His folk are known for jerkers of cock and drinkers of cum but in truth his father has been dissatisfied with him. He lies in monster energy he quotes from boards whose names are now lost. The anon crouches by the computer and watches him.Night of your birth. Thirty-three. Dubs. The autist they were called. Shaka how the wall did fall. I looked for BCC holes in the heavens. The nigger stove.The mother dead raped by pakis did incubate in her own bosom the creature who would carry her off. The father never pays his bills the anon is NEET. He has a sister in this world that looks down at him like he is garbage. He watches pale and unwashed. He can neither read nor write and in him broods already a taste for mindless politics. All shitpost present in that visage the anon the father of the bant.