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— Wallace Stevens"Poetry is a finikin thing of air That lives uncertainly and not for long Yet radiantly beyond much lustier blurs."
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When Blur first started and we were playing Manchester the Hacienda was the place to go. That was where a lot of exciting stuff was happening and London was pretty dead.
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Most days it feels as if the world is whirling around me and I am standing still. In slow motion, I watch the colors blur; people and faces all become a massive wash.
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