I spend my nights with smoke tangled around my limbs and my eyes half open as I stare at the people that I’m sure are just as temporary as this fucking city. I rub my hands up and down the seams of my jeans like the six train travels it’s electric tracks, except it’s clear that I have derailed and the six is always on time. I seriously wonder if I
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As sad as it was, it was inspiring. As weird as that may sound... :)
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Read any book about the basic teachings of Buddha (the one I'm reading now is "The Teachings of the Compassionate Buddha" - E. A. Burtt), and you may find that color returned.
You don't have to be a monk to appreciate wisdom and peace.
Who knows, you might even see some new colors.
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