I'm living in a dream land where there are no objects. Slipping into the ground upon which you walk I swim in your thoughts. A smokey world of reflections of other peoples pasts. Shades of memories for sorting. There is dark in the day and the summer is cold.
In a revolutionaries mind there is only objective, anyway you can get there, there is no object with which you can not over come, everything becomes mind over matter.
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
Prey tel A tree in coding must be objective for the system to sort. Which plane is this which I exist where which there is no which way to sort. Who possibly would make a code that had no meaning, prey tel I say what world is this where words would have no meaning?
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