My mind works best when my hands are busy.
So I open the window to the damp rainy air
which slowly replaces the kitchen stink
the smell of sixteen-hundred frying meatballs
...
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this is the human condition. we are no more unique than the various species of any other mammal. we have ended up on the top of the food chain (for now)
great poem
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this is the human condition. we are no more unique than the various species of any other mammal. we have ended up on the top of the food chain (for now) great poem