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A very long time ago, there was a well-respected South American poet. For years he vanished
though there were rumors he was completely mad.

One day a graduate student who was researching his poetry discovered the house he had once
lived in. As she approached this broken place, it seemed abandoned, but upon entering, she
discovered a disturbing sight--a naked man crazily scrawling on the walls.

Gnawing, pouncing, he was becoming an animal in this prehistoric place. Haunted by this
wildness, she walked cautiously through the vacant house, and she discovered his writing
covering all the walls. Every inch was slathered with language—a living writhing graffiti.
Ceilings and floors. The stairs pulsed with it. The railings and window sashes. Every door.

So, when she walked from one room to another, she passed through the cracks between words
on her way to other words. She passed through what some might have called madness on her
way to what some might have called beauty.

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