"I was working with mud and photographs and thread, eyelashes, carrots and acetone... I was throwing radios off buildings and... remember floating styrofoam commas down the Milwaukee River."

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All snowmen look to the sky, knowing their death will be delivered by the horizon. Before dawn, their life becomes the darkest. The moment before the sun burns all. The Snowmen go mental. Kill or be killed. I only just escaped the violent puddles, the sticks and stones. The broken carrot noses.

— Craig Stone