What Are You Playing This Weekend?

An intrusion like the moon through clouds. A misplaced man, a misplaced question. The question: one of play. But what of play?

So rude, crude; a thought pre-chewed. Its exhalation an imposition, its intonation an accusation. So to play we return again. Reveal your secrets, my secret brethren.

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from Rock, Paper, Shotgun http://ift.tt/1AaubZG