Description
Time is a black hole, a pit into which things fall and disappear. Even the beginning of all existence, according to one theory, was an explosion, and existence itself is nothing but fragments and remnants. And here we are, living with its consequences and effects. And I will extract this minute from the black hole. But why? Some write to change the present, or the future. As for me, I dream of changing the past. And this is logical, and the logic of my index.
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