Cogitation

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Scrolled an interesting line the other day, which was "If it never begins, it's poetry." 

Everything is well explained from this perspective.

It was anyone of them but you. So you don't have the memory I shared with that one-of-them. Their existence is an illustration of the death penalty you bestowed it (what's it?). 

I'm one of the tourists in the museum, standing around the precious vase covered with glass, but too lazy to figure out the historical meanings of the n (1, 3372) BC vase. "Wow, so beautiful!" or "I like the colors!" are all I can say to the marvel.

Sunset, star, dream are beautiful yet untouchable. Meanwhile, I'm a human.




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