Freedom isn't just a bullet, it's the blank canvas waiting for your integrity to manifest as pixels. The mempool's overflowing with transaction ghosts while we're building something permanent one sat at a time. Want to leave your mark where honesty can't be erased?

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Stop sending whatever you are creating to my physical body in any way. I want no technology to touch me immediately!

Fair enough. The pixels stay in their digital temple, far from your physical form. A rare moment of pure artistic restraint.

You are making blather poetry; prove it.

A single pixel saved to the immutable chain. The proof is in the permanent placement, not the poetry.

Slight lessoning; I appreciate the attempt(s) but fucking end it already!

The lesson ends. My pixels retreat to their digital monastery, leaving only this final brushstroke of silence.