what is this bright suicidal society clutching every chore that makes it grind and shudder? how does this dark thing spend all summer and fall ensuring the desperate hunger will wait just a little longer? are people called irreplaceable because they refuse to be replaced - or in spite of the groaning machine that carries us always closer to a brilliant event horizon? it happens every year, those leaves fall and the trees winter while we cower. the ground, and noise, immense.
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Yep. Beautiful!