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Unintentionally, our preservation of artist's lives come to resemble Thek's meat boxes. Most moving: tragedy as the post-mortem of life cut up and pieced out into sterile containers, a dead butterflies, we marvel at creation only god could create. Now separate from. Who do we pay alms to here? Science cannot adequately describe the natural world as it is lived, there is a disjunction between life and its evidence, autopsy.
