| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - sometimes, when i stand waiting for someone who does not come i whistlefor death, as though it is a friend and i am the willing one to go with it in its new journey hoping that perhaps i may like it finally, when i do not have to go back and retrace my origin and then regret, and death hears it and comes to me and asks me if i am going with himto an escapade, an adventure, for death is an escape,
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