the curtains blow in and out with the wind. they're like lungs of my room.. filling and exhaling they press against my desk. they breathe easy, like i've been
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this is how the story went i met someone by accident, blew me away. i wish i could lay down beside you when the day is done wake up to your face against the morning sun.
This imagination which knows no bounds is henceforth allowed to be exercised only in strict accordance with the laws of an arbitrary utility; it is incapable of assuming this inferior role for very long and, in the vicinity of the twentieth year, generally prefers to abandon man to his lusterless fate. - Andre Breton, Manifest du Surrealisme.
in front of me now is an open door i'm moving ahead not sure of the way and yet theres a light that i'm heading for. its closer than ever closer than ever closer, closer..