After you have seen going away, you become part of going away. The little things like time, the big things like leaves. A cast off wind intercedes with clouds. The sun becomes bold wily claimant of darkness. Birds react like they never knew. The sun resembles those birds. Dynasties build on eclipses. Moments of entropy make sense. Green postures of trees. You fit in time quite well, too well, a well. A day was a day but isn’t now. Margins have been declared. Each apocalypse takes time, especially as described in these texts. You saw the shadow pass.
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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