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  • I try and avoid wondering what people are thinking about when I see them stare off into the space between things worth looking at and blank walls. What deeper meaning can I get out of the face of some kid eating an apple so intensely as to make it appear a giant wad of gum, requiring so much chewing to make it practically inedible. There is no story that comes out of two eyes focused on a power outlet with a parsed mouth and unintelligible tapping of the foot on the base of a chair. What are they looking for anyway? What is so worth stopping their day to breath in air and breath in air and breath in air and see nothing but the sunspots of tired blood resting in their eyes? They break off and snap to attention and speak to you with the verbal equivalent of exhaling into a paper bag.

    You don't know a damn thing more about the world just because you gazed at a wall.

    If dreams flow out of the walls, then what limits them?

    They should be called plans.

    I'm a hypocrite.
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