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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1511 | 2021-08-23 13:10:15 | 62.30 | 95% |
| 1117 | 2021-08-20 06:02:27 | 52.03 | 94% |