Miss K, I love you. This to honour your faith in me... To my biotic dysmorp confines, I counterpart all your unreported cases, into the shallow graves of their own soiled epistemol. I must lose myself in you, as you said, and this digging is the only way I can divide as you require. See how I attend you, Miss. Please see how I time my bank of defective images, whose frequency describes the flawlessness of your rituals. Miss, your symptoms are my 15 minutes of fame.