You've heard shards of our voice in the phantom-radio code of a numbers station in the roar of a crowd - in the screams of your clock - in the scrape of a chalkboard - in the snow static of a TV - in the chainsaw-decibel mating of cicadas - in the urban mythos that spreads amongst children like contagion - in the silence between lies.White noise becomes a cadence. Words develop self-awareness. Viral. Evolving. Living poetry. Sentient language.

-Joshua Alan Doetsch

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