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Ten cards, one engine. Why the vault's notes are built to look like the things they catalog, and the four beats every card shares.
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Ten cards, one engine. Why the vault's notes are built to look like the things they catalog, and the four beats every card shares.
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Nothing is fetched, nothing phoned out. Every word on it is mine, set the way you would want to hold a sleeve and read the back.
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Poster, cast, a trailer, the whole thing washed in the film's own colors.
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What is left is the book as it would sit on a shelf, made from the handful of facts I bothered to write down.
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It is my own brew log, laid out so the next cup can be the same cup, or the one that finally gets it right.
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Plain text in, a shelf listing out. The one thing it cannot supply is whether the hours were worth it.
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Give it a name, a country, the year they formed, and it will make you a card.
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Network, hosts, how many episodes deep I am, the one line I wanted to keep.
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This is the one card that does not trust me.
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It is the Movies card's older sibling, working the same beat for television.
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A bookmark that grew a face, out of the few lines I saved when I filed it.
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