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A dense profusion of foliage on thick vines occupies the top and left three quarters of the frame. The bottom right shows a sort of passage into the tangle. One of the branches of the vine has extended and curled at the end. Captions: "You ask to join the Uncanny Growth. It nods a tendril. A voice rustles: 'Thank you for your interest. We'll be in touch."

"Anticlimax doesn't really count as a joke," I tell myself. But I never listen.

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