Count the million back...~

‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989524‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989522‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989520‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989518‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989516‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989514‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989512‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989510‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989508‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989505‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989503‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
‡‡‡989501‡‡‡
‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡‡
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Latest profile posts

A given mission, mechanical assault, manufactured devotion.
Red eyes, an upside-down form. Even the twisted shape was made to be that way.
No matter how cruel the slaughter, worse than a demon's,
or how gentle the kindness, greater than an angel's,
a machine has neither will nor madness—only code, and a few bugs.
So why, then, does it feel so unbearably sad?