The lasting impermanence of things, if that makes any sense.
When you are less than yourself and yet still yourself.
Like, that's not a threat, that's a promise. And maybe more like, that's not a celebration, it's a hard truth.
File with warnings, evil tidings, and statistical inevitabilities.
And there is moving very quickly without getting where.
And there are these numbers in marched lines that you can try to get your head around to pass the time or the pressure.
The pile of other things makes a picture in your head and then another and then another.
Fluid systems lead to the itching.
Some unconvincing connection to tattoos and early America.
Something quiet still and something blue.
To one side then the other.
It won't be about the chairs or the place settings or the name cards.
But it will begin with recognition, and then you'll get a chance to rise.
Location:Portland St,Baltimore,United States
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