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writing to you like this makes me feel like you’re still there. I feel you in my sleep and see you in everything I do. I have countless days where I think I see you around 3rd Ave but then I realize it’s impossible. Your looks haunt me. You are the most beautifully tragic thing that has ever happened to me and I thank the hands of fate that we know each other but I despise the cruelty of the world for keeping us apart

– late night spontaneous venting

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Pseudo-Idealism

The clock is silent

We no longer idolize it as the rhythmic sound of life

Flashes and beeps

A different way of living

Oh, how the world has changed

In the still moments the world is silent once more

The ticking of the clock has been long dissolved by the insufferable silence of this neo-lifestyle

The ticking…and the sounds of the natural, pre-industrialized world have been drowned out.

A life taken or a life granted?

In fact, a world taken.