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Marc Gasol Inspires Thomas Pynchon Fanfiction

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A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now. Seven feet, calculating a seam between the wheels of the defense. Seven feet uttered in the poetry of footwork, all so the ball can weave through space and launch off the fingertips: accelerating to reach that apex in gravity's rainbow where buckets are born.