One day, one page, one sketch of GREAT EXPECTATIONS, published daily at 8:40 AM.

480We were collectors, now we’re hoarders. We mince junk indiscriminately and leave it unmasked, scattered. On our graveyard shift we sit by a conveyor belt that has no beginning and no off switch. The only thing we’re worried about is that our melted brains don’t tip over.– Page read by CARLSON HATTON.


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