Faces slide by in glowing shadows. Like snowbound ghosts that go up and down in epileptic shivers and negative radioactive slivers, in a landscape of endless dull glitter and a taste in my mouth so sweet, yet so bitter. And we exhaust ourselves trying to get there.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1674 | 2021-08-11 06:44:15 | 36.88 | 93% |
| 1300 | 2021-08-08 13:47:27 | 35.97 | 93% |