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The orchards have faded, the dust forming warped faces and strange forms that aren’t humanoid or beast.

Buildings are crumbling as they appear; flowers are blooming and withering. I think I can hear voices laughing, some playful, others twisted.

‘Entropy is where all things have a form. All dreams and fantasies, all desires, all emotion, all of nature. Concrete or abstract. The living, dead and those trapped in between. The suffering, and those who create it…’

‘I think you get the point.’

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