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Fragment Gratia Artis

Ideal. Smooth. We had shaved Mopar's head back to its perfect Keplerian sphere--some explanation for the movement of heavenly bodies here in Crystal River. Me. The more I stared at the orb in the fluourescent bathroom light, the more more I believed in the unencumbered process of magic. We had used Occam's Razor on Mopar's Noggin and received. Yes. Divine guidance.