Winter Reading

I thought, oh dang how I believed, that I was growing. I thought that I was going to change the world. I thought it was a beautiful picture that was forming and one that just gets better the more you read and the more you think that you understand about the way that the actual world works. I thought, oh how I believed, that it was so fucking beautiful, and as I watched and sat down another new book oh the beauty and joy I felt as that sun puffed through the clouds as them shiny cotton balls of the Michigan winter fluttered and moved all around, and it was as if the snowflakes were defying the laws of the pitch of the waves of the fall, and those snow flakes were like my mind, or so I believed, a mind that I thought was expanding. Those snowflakes were beautiful, and life was beautiful, and the moon and every dang thing in between space and matter and time and even these human eyes, well it was real, and I thought that we could see, that I could see; I thought she understood who I was. I thought so much, never even trying to understand, anything. 

 

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