Narcissus-X tastes the brittle bitterness of cold type face Georgia Garamond and Swiss Script.
Away, stultifying obsessions with regimented demands of consistency! Narcissus-X is artist! Narcissus-X creates! Narcissus-X shines with umbral radiance of abyssal stars!
Tiny stars, bright stars - or are they cracks in the obsidian sky?
But no! The small minds, the microcosmic mechanicians whose vision scarcely extends beyond their bespectacled noses, do not understand. Perhaps they cannot understand.
For who can fathom the deeps of Narcissus-X, who has plunged deep into the grotto of velvet coal and sailed Stygian seas beneath the obsidian sky?
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