September slipped into the room and now it waits for some event to autograph it with the memory of it having been here. Soon it will be gone. One month follows another. One year scrolls by and the next one arrives. Life begins as a cycling diorama of changes. The furniture changes like the seasons, where you may or may not try to adapt yourself to the carouseling rooms, or you think the problem is the way the furniture is arranged and it has nothing to do with you. For awhile everything is going out and your world becomes the embodiment of what you thought it into.
Like plastic being fashioned through an injection molding machine, it becomes an expression of what you imagined. Your desires heated it into molten possibility and then... it cooled. You got used to seeing it from your perspective and everyone else, if they bothered to, saw it from theirs. Judgment played musical chairs and what was left? What had the greatest impact... the censure of the world? … the praise of the world? What you saw, no matter what anyone thinks? Did you have the juice to enforce that? Sigh...
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