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Ray Porter you’re an awesome reader

utterly fantastic

Their deaths were written in the sapes of sweet blood on the bitter ground. Their deaths were whhispered in the buzzing of the flies on the corpses beyond the walls. Their deaths were stamped on their faces, carried on the wind, held in the crooked line between the mountains and the sky. Dead men, all.

Not half bad for a then-teenage sci fi writer

I guess it's time for a reread😭🫠 (me drowning in tears of pride and joy)

"The logic of their forms derives from nightmares."