Everything is constantly breaking my heart. We are menacing and strange, concrete jungle of weird death, a lonely odd room where I loathe the passing of time. I've smoked too many, I've burnt out every bulb. In search of solitude and strength. But I can't stand the feeling of stillness as much as I cannot bare the constant motion of living. We are trapped in our minds all the time. A mother of two infant ducks suddenly glide through the water before me. They follow each other closly, their feathers bending light into little jagged ripples. I'm hanging on to the notion that this is like looking out into forever. People say ducks mate forever. But I wonder how often romance touches science, or how many colors exist beyond our vision, and I start to believe, we barely know our world at all. Dystopia...how far are we from such an imagined place or state?
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