Where does all the time go? I ask the empty space around me. I pace around the larger projects, remembering the motions in the back of my spine of subconscious work and procrastination energies. This is how your best work is done. The creative swirls begin to take over, long for a day at the typewriter, for a day in fantasy, did you not spend an entire childhood in Wonderland, after all? He says write everything, and the breath leaves your lung. The National Mall in DC yells PEAK BLOOM! into your morning coffee, and for a brief moment, every other newsticker is silent. Everything is falling apart, the cherry blossoms pay it no mind.
Everything is falling apart,
the cherry blossoms pay it no mind.
Even a heart that looks barren
may bloom should enough sunshine reach it again.
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