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Sitting here in the cool, summer scented dark I can hear the crickets outside in their continous high-pitched tremolo that reminds about the small ball of life that we're all clinging to somewhere out in the vast tapestry of stars and noble gases. My feet are propped on a box fan that thrums with power, and sends the bass vibration through my body, as close to the Om as we'll ever get from modern technology I guess. And how can I feel anything but content here, no matter what my worries. I realized that I am breathing in time to the rise of fall of the cicadas humming. This quiet intensity of love is much more than I am able to feel at one time. I want to go into the fields, among the wet grasses, and lay on my back, pressing myself as far into the warm soil as I can go, and sprout further than my skin will allow, breathing liquids and sounds and light. Touched by the secret synchronicity of Humoreske, I have been smiling ever since. There is nothing like a glimpse of the bigger picture to make me let go, to do high jump kicks in the yard, kicking off the heads of sunflowers. It's one of the nights where I can feel the Magic. Science is a way of talking about the world, but Magic is a way of talking to the world in a way that it cannot ignore. Believe me though, it talks back. And I'm also homesick for a Home. Glass in a front door, and a bathroom with windows and tiles, steam mixing with fresh air on my wet skin, making me feel the life of me. Who cares the course of this narrative, seemingly disjointed, but still just a murmur in the bigger babble. The point is more than just these words, but the air I'm breathing and the sounds I'm hearing and the life I'm living, which is too big for 26 letters. Imagine the vastness of space in your mind, and now think of all the others who have the idea of that space as well, different and their own, and you can see that it really is infinite, because ideas can go as far as they like without worrying about limitations. Now is the vast idea. Now I am sighing silently in the cool dark, dreaming of pipe tobacco and sun on the grass. Now there are songs in the world, and rivers and streetlights and coffee and ships and infinities more than words, more than 26 letters. Love is one of these, and now I am Love.


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