In terms of comprehension the spell cast by the matted decoration inscribed upon this comb is both naive and enigmatic in equal measure – creating an anomaly where the shine and lustre of words are merely nitpicking at a greater story, perhaps locked away from us by the shear volume of eternity.
The licentious tyranny of conventional description here thwarted by a comb whose perfect teeth stand like irascible bristles defiant before the knots and tangles of time – for what greater irony could there be; than this brush against the naked skull of memento mori.
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