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To Britta Kallevang's previous piece
i am the sun and the cause of the origin of trees in the shade and on fire i am catching a breeze catching on to the mysticism of this mainstream event the building is bricks mashed with force to face each other forced to make men mountains when they're fowl down-cast, men make me laugh they don't know what they have fire makes me want to see it so i see the lighter side i was always confused and uncertain about pulverizing almonds i mean with each crush a full amount of babble would backfire into my groin. i grew weary so shoo me away this is my reality and a place to sit, the sun, my shadow, a glass of water, a pair of unusable mittens, a cell phone that cannot drink and a backpack carrying beyond books, an incredible stench of winter exhaust, salt, sand and runny noses no wonder we all have blocked brains and fired inspirations i am fatalistic aren't most heavenly bodies?
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