notes from the outer world.

10pm and on. Closing the day, turning another page, taking a few notes that need to be kept visible. By copying thoughts through the hours days weeks they seem like both becoming memorized to a point of not having to be even written down anymore - and somewhat devoid of any meaning beyond the mere daily act of creating another copy of it to take through the next batch of hours one has been granted. Murmuring fake mantras. Dimming the lights. Shutting down the heat, letting the moist, cool dark float in again. Submerging in the hum of the late city. (Have a quiet night wherever you are.)

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