Wednesday, August 24, 2005

two hours till the next bird sings her song
don't think so much about the world around us. because wot can we do when the bubble bursts, and it all comes crashing down? we still fly to space in rockets, we descend the depths of the ocean with craft. we were not genetically made for these explorations, we are still imprisoned by the marvel of our own inventions. in our own little sphere that ceases to exist in the vast universe.

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