December 2009
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No theory of life seemed to him to be of any importance compared with life...
– Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray)
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Bottle shaped like broken glass, the thoughts seeping through dead grass. They weave into palms sprawled out, cuting the lines. Fortunes pan out above, black and reeking of misperception. Rewind and it’s plays the same backwards. The world’s water is green, the land blue.
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Words precut, they go as scripted. Meaningless as they may seem, to watch the film I created in my head come to life. It is but a mere comfort. Moving on hurts. Feels like your only choice is to walk backwards as you leave them behind, not wanting to miss a thing. At the same time, it’s the neccesary option. While the two have parted, another pair does as well, and so that is life. Patience is...