Address hill as practically there. Rising in folds from earth skin, direction applied, stars and whatnot above. Everything follows from the view or weight of going. One step forward means one step less. Bald facts become apparent. Use your legs as thinking. It takes everything in you to be one place. Trail head at the foot of the hill, or a roadway bending upward, till downward. Odd mix of satisfaction and bother. We all have further to go until right here, formerly there. Someday you will be breathless, within the peak and trough of breath.
The work becomes chiding of sunlight. The work is elegy and shaded. The principle ciphers as a god, in the way transience is purpose. Transience works this brief, ending fields, making trees concern. The hell of halting midway identifies the work of burning thru. Forever makes a sign. Sign makes worthy. Indeed the tramp of feet forward concludes any sentences but suggests more. Long sentences, stupid words. The caroling heard by Dante, brilliantine remorse for a better tide. The long road up from down, and turned around. The work then becomes the work now, as stained glass similitude. Anxious in the class structure of catastrophe, the baying song over all. Nothing to do but be done. Ruskin gave you papers to remind you. Slow battering concedes the earth in time. Time being functional and oblique. The worker inside sees the nation by exhalation. Transitive connection sports of culture. The class that ends becomes the class that begins, both left and right.
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