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Burgeoning

02 Mar 2016

just whisper it

When all the people said it wasn't possible, they agreed amongst themselves. Corners were places where you need not feel cornered now. People are people and possibilities are possibilities. Roofs are for rain not suppression. Walls are for warmth not oppression. Windows can be for darkness for the most precious thing about darkness is the light you can see, if any. Whenever there is a debate there will always be someone who says the world will keep spinning whichever way the argument might fall, mountains will remain and rivers will still flow no matter how polluted. Surely no rivers are polluted and surely I don't need to know. I do know though, and the people will continue to gather. There will be no certainties. What are certainties? Some people believe in them. But what is belief? That can vary as we all know, so there are no certainties when so many certainties contradict each other, maybe it is anxiety of a very high order. You might call it high anxiety but the people will still gather.

There will always be room. Humans can shuffle which helps. I can smell cooking, humans can do cooking quite well. I imagine a rich spicy dish, I'm not sure of the ingredients but I smell spices I know of and while mouth watering, visions avail me of wondrous places. Visions make me feel so used. But I can hear voices, no not in my head, outside. I'm not inside, I'm out in the fresh air listening to birds and things, looking at the sky. But outside there are voices. The people are still gathering and I'm not sure what they are saying and they're not sure if they've said it. "There aren't enough rooms for us!" a gruff unwieldy man rebuked but the cooking went on and the visions upheld me. We could have singing too, and dancing. But who will dance and sing outside when you are inside and vice a versa when all the people say its possible. Low anxiety maybe but the smell of the feast jolts me. Of course I ask "will I have any?". And we shuffle some more.

When all is said and done, it will be done. But what is for certain, and yet one certain will contradict another, or what will be done or, maybe, what will be said will be said or done or be certain or contradicted. But, just whisper it, will what was said be remembered!. Memory. A remembered thing? But what was said? I smell cooking, i hear the sound of shuffling. I see the shadows of gathering, but that's just my prejudiced viewpoint. Visions? viewpoints? Inside or outside. I want to watch something simple, like a child and a mother with a pram slowly glide by, ignorant of their existence, blinded by their vision or the vision I have of them. The sky is a much better example, it can be a blue sky (no clouds), you look up and feel so many happy things, anyones vision will never be so perfect so it will never be such a perfect blue sky, there will be visual vibrations, no mirage but visual vibrations of some kind. Peripheral elements, there are always peripheral elements, like outsiders or insiders, like voices although they can be mainstream, and talking of streams thats the reason I would mention pollution.

Still more cooking I see, or should I just say it is continuing

$£^^&*$$%£!!!! or some other proverbial (!!!!!) and now for some lorem ipsum

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Peter Paul Robertson

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HELLO

rupsy andronalino says:

reach out and touch listen and learn then die

ee says:

Whoola roola boola

Ruby yip says:

A comment from my phone

Annie says:

test