Teeming seems arresting in the moment but Water gathers in the gravity. All gravity apportions into meaning to. You drink, you cool, you rest. Entropy fills in peace. Radiant ground opens, a source appears, a name begins. Rock provides stasis in the livery of time. Have you looked forever in your shortest glance? Lodgers of gather in praxis shimmer. Landscape steers. Where somewhere has been: you could be racing. A leaf, a feather, once here. The end of stopping startles. Generosity. Stars fly expressly above the venturesome, attracted by the musical stylings of moss. Just moss, not lesser deities. Practicar muse formulation in so many, or few, words. Words. Les fruits et légumes qui ne sont pas vendables sont jetés.
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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