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What kind of story are you going to tell when all you believe in is poetry? What kind of poetry are you going to write when you collarbone is broken? Some years ago, due to an accident Zanshin was constrained to sitting on the couch for several weeks, his artistic output limited to drafting rough skits on a tablet. To resort to something limited like this as someone who is used to maneuver a flock of synths was not an easy feat, but as we know sometimes limitation provokes proliferation. All the…