It's all about the dough.
You're daily bread.
Rise.
Dear flour.
Lend me your ear.
And earn your crust.
Or return to dust.
City of Peace
19 hours ago
"The world... ravaged... the sun beat down on the carbon stricken rock. Civilisation... a distant memory. Human-robot sex... the norm. Each day, every day, survival and ... how? this-thus."
A not too distant, distant too hot near-future.
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