

Detective pt. 2: The ProblemI rub my bloodshot eyes with the cool, soothing back of the receiver, "What sort of problem"? He paused, "It is a matter that is somewhat... should we say... delicate. It might be best if we met to discuss it in person". I sighed audibly, "Listen, I've got better things to do than be jerked around by some paranoid thinks my lines are tapped", are my lines tapped? Must look into it. "Get to the point or give me some peace". "It involves something very dear to you", the voice trickled with hidden meanings. "Money"? I surmised, it must be money. A soft chuckle issued from the handset "Meet me at the Royal Cross Hotel at seven-thirty". A click, aDetective pt. 2: The Problem


Detective pt. 1: The SituationIt was a dark and stormy night, the night before it happened. So I was dressed for nasty weather the night it finally did. The sky was as clear as day and the moon was shining like it'd just gotten a fresh wax. My rubber boots and green marshmallow-man jacket weren't exactly practical, given the exquisitely tame weather for an early November night, but that's not to say I wasn't looking good. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The afternoon previous to the night before the night it happened, I was sitting in my office, pretending to read the newspaper, when something rang. I'd been up all night and I was running on untold gallons of coffee andDetective pt. 1: The Situation


SymbolsParabolas go up Or down But always on and on Time escapes Around the corner Or off across the lawn Calamitous cacophony X's marching on Minds locked in happy struggle With life's eternal yawnSymbols
Symbols without meaning That on which we depend On shining ladders wrought with grief We slowly do ascend Concepts once so fierce defended Our fears now do upend Of this our final resting place We are not meant to transcend Our thoughts are not meant to divine But only to depend We climb the sky to heights unending Never to


A ConversationI'm talking to the clouds.A Conversation
They aren't listening. In fact, they couldn't hear me if they wanted to. They're just sitting up there, flying, just like I wish I could, whispering to each other about how small the sky is, how meaningless the world beneath them is, and how insignificant they feel in comparison to the stars. They mourn the deaths of their many friends and relatives in the futile war against the evil and oppressive mountain ranges that jut out into such a small portion of their territory. A war they cannot win. A war that will never end. And they swear, with passionate, thundering, voices that they will honor their fall
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It takes common sense & decency to do anything that stands out as unique.
[link] [link]
Ysterday was possible to watch the movie "Voyage en Armenie", made by Guéridian. A real trip to a hidden past reality, in the contemporary time.
Stay in touch. I'm making a commentary about it in my journal.
just wanted to tell you that I love your writing and I think you're really talented.
That's it
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Rythmatic, Systematic, World Control
Magnetic, Genetic, To Match Your Soul
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I know it's sad I never gave a damn about the weather and it never gave a damn about me.
[link] <- Please and thank you.
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Tongue-tied twisted...Just an earth-bound misfit
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