A pile of slate bricks accumulates amidst a landscape which is barren and infinite,
Save for the identical collections of bland mass,
Which rains down in odd intervals.
Oh!
Exclaims one passer-by,
What a unique arrangement of pieces!
Truly the work of a visionary!
The pedestrian moves on sparing little further thought,
Their eyes an identical hue to the wasteland all about.
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