takes a long time to call, takes even longer to break a bind like that with nothing but a body, to meet the Devil, find a crossroad. I go and call his name three times. His name is made of incantations and incantations are a curse cast upon myself and I cast the curse and he appeared and read flowers fields calves coins and disordered their boundaries—and are you aware of the language of the region of X? Literacy is a form of Magic. Literacy is a Form of Magic. Literacy is a Form of Magic. X is a region where the entire alphabet is made of one letter and the one letter is X and it is where you meet the only man(?) who lives here and it is where the roads to the Known Hallows cross and it is where every grave is marked X and every body buried in them has been practicing X or died of X and it is where one comes to perform or ask for X.
Imagine crossing to that space, calling Devil.
Imagine what X I could ever ask for?
Curse Words: a manual in 19 steps for aspiring transmographs
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