The anyhow time of beaver seems simple enough and directed. Build a home in the idea of home, and make it the wet part of everything in elemental time. Tho called industrious, beaver has yet to light a furnish. They shape the landscape like liquid lightning, that enterprise. A tail slap of water provides rousing vocal claim. Teeth that never cease to grow look like American aim. Flood a forest in the touch of time. PowerPoints from the beaver lodge explain life as ongoing. You have work to do while being done. Drag a branch into water in your own time, just try the challenge of chewing a tree. The state of being without or beyond a thing seems strange and without reference. Corporate continuity includes paperwork, fluffy forensic nothingnes. The breeders at Goldman Sachs have the future of no future faintly in mind. Numbers flatten the picture to easy register. And that becomes thriving. Flooded fields and forests trouble no beaver, they vindicate with a thriving lodge. Why does thriving not equal thriving and living not life? Well, as the story goes.
From the thing itself, beyond seasoned aptness. Life is like living but blurred by you were listening. Aspect ratio telemetry in myriad languages smooth as rocks approaches time to look. Words piece together things or things find words. Endlessness is a choice, written big in words as shiny as geese. Words simply take the time in radiation and radical point. Stein wrote the heft of nothing special, start there or whatever. You can slowly adjust the franchise, commodity's inner workings. Subglacial quips, subliminal washouts, frantic azure in the breeze of frosty Friday: these special sparking hallways slyly enjoin. Maybe you read too much into reading too much. Further on is where you’ll stay.
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