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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 19129 | 2021-07-08 01:56:32 | 176.08 | 100% |
| 19127 | 2021-07-08 01:50:45 | 158.83 | 98% |