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[monochrome_sun]

I wrote a poem (or part of one) called "...And the East Called Red" today that I like. Things are on the edge of something and are going to fall (I can tell) but it is a good fall. Sometimes descent can be good. Patterns occur but are too general and specific to be patterns. Life works out in rubics cube and tulip ways.

Comments

[delphic_sibyll]

Life works out in rubics cube and tulip ways.

For some reason, you always find the words to describe things perfectly.