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“When you cut into the present the future leaks out.” –William S. Burroughs

The retrieval. The process. Infinite heavy liquid in thought/dream/action.

Been watching the border play, the fringe lands in vortical flow where everything drowns into oneness, and it’s exhausting. After a time, you begin to turn away from it all, let it all sink in fury to the bottom of the well.

Moving slower, the shifts and cracks in the Experience are easier to see. Where once you were hellbent and mindset, the imperfections now shine through like the sun through a million pinholes, exposing the beautiful thought for its true nature: fool’s gold.

It’s the death of chimerical sentimentality. It’s the admittance of a drudging and tedious truth.

So now? The quixotic quest is laid to rest.



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