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Good.

I remember my shadow well enough I can take a second to speak to you about the other, for really, how else can you learn about this world but by basic compare & contrast?

;

What was the acquaintance’s, Q, Quests’ shadow like?

When he spoke to me, And I in my current inebriated state should be taken with a giant grain of salt, wine soaked;
When Quest of my eye spoke to me of his spirit:

I should note that I knew this child from gradeschool, knew of him more specifically. We shared similar classes of the higher curricular echelon and roamed in similar circles of friends; this Quest child grew up presumably southern baptist, (I myself some form on transdenominational evangelicism), he grew up in some confining southern texas school of god that broke him so good he turned militant, proclaimed scripture akin to jihad and turned his back against any light that shone upon him.

This child, who tripped so hard that shadow came and took him;
the shadow came to him in a form cloaked in black vile chill of arabic unknown, a mysticism so gripping to halt faculty of rationality or clarity, the absolute fear nadir of the Orientalistic Other;=

This child saw the demon of the desert heats come before him and shook him to the core,  made him crawl unto his knees in bad trip and proclaim the sweet laced lips of Christ around his vocals and found solace in the regressionary movements of his forefathers, back into the calming soothing tranquil nothing void of Sweet Christian Jesus Christ Almighty of these United States; Crawled right up the asshole of Commie fighting Eisenhower’s “In God We Trust.”

Grand ole fucking Jingoistic Lilly White Christ upon the Vale’.

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So shook to core this child was,
of the demon of the Other;
So shook to core this child was
he returned to the comforts of his mother’s
childhood’s creature comforts
schooltime’s regurt’s fodders’:

In God We Trust.

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but why?

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