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writing, the Houston che mical plant may explode because the
floodwaters put down the cooling system. The atmosphere was
filled with so much melted Arctic Ice the rains took out the
civilians residing along the Gulf Coast. By the next generation,
they'll have to figured out how to cool the Arctic to keep coasta l
regions safe fro m drowning. The point is that I'm leaving behind ;
a world much worse off than it was when I ca me into it, should I
not be worried what a rotten eternity awaits me? Would that be
overpsychotic? The answered is as stated above, as perhaps hinted
to elsewhere; I keep trekking along the route of creative
productivity. I hope I have time and energy to complete this
project.
One may view the perspective effects of time by imaging a
young girl trotting up a long stairway and by the time she
disappears in the blur at the top , turns around, and starts down she
appears an old lady. Conversely, an old man may feel his head
groggy; his body oppressed by lethargy, and in the strenuous
exercise to e xplain is now faced with the question as to whiter
hearkens this reverberation of thought waves. Old people who
enjoy recollections of their youth are blessed dwellers upon the
mountain of youth. People re minisce even if only to imagine the
rural homestead as the standard-bearer of human societ y
throughout history, like a painting about you standing at the edge
of a forest through which runs a river. As we progress along the
trail, shrubbery to the side rubs up against my leg. There in the
yonder is the mill grinding away. Discussing this thought reminds
me of times back when people invested the time necessary to relate
to one another as human beings .
One could say that my "mission" to the US West Coast was o f
the sort where I burst inward out of desperation to escape the
loneliness that bound me to desperate "praise -seeking." We eclipse
this thought to bring out the imminent realization pertaining to all
those lands that have been expropriated by the Imperialist regimes
of history and the historical residents thereupon captured and
imprisoned in urban populations , an important announcement. We
are mostly city animals, lined up in shapeless houses; like the mice
in tunnels, dead corpses in the graveyards, or a number of chemica l
particles fashioned into pills. When the elderly think of what has,
had, and will become of their life, the vanishing point occupies
them. Throughout the decades, a person may, and perhaps we all
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