"the town has a sense, not of history, but of time, and the telephone poles seem to know this. if you lay your hand against one, you can feel the vibration from the wires deep in the wood, as if souls had been imprisoned in there and were struggling to get out." || the slow-building eeriness is starting to get to me. it's 11:38 am broad daylight now, but I'm still glancing uneasily over my shoulder.
— Dec 03, 2014 01:27PM
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