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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 179 | 2021-07-17 20:23:22 | 50.81 | 96% |
| 144 | 2021-07-16 23:10:04 | 54.90 | 97% |