Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
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Murdered by Crows
"It was only about fifty miles to civilization. HWY 299 west over Buckhorn summit. Elevation thirty-two hundred something. A destroyed road That switches back on itself Because it doesn’t want you to leave. Now it was a killing field. Full of dead cars And people I know Fleeing their homes."
299
Murdered by Crows2