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Tuesday, April 27, 2021

?

 This is what I say when I do not know what to say, when words do not count, when words are useless, when form is hazy, unborn. Something is there, in the same way that ghosts are there. It could be anything, anyone, or just a noise in the night. Colors matter at times like this, and motion, and sound, though they are nothing precise, either on their own or in concert. Everything just is, but what? That's where the telling starts, with recognition. All quick things are caught by the tail. 

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