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Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.

Friday, November 11, 2011

My Day Was One Hour / My Hour Was One Day.

Day.
Era.
Why us, Moon?

Shroud yo' way.
Amen.


Yo! My hoar was nude!

She do you many war.



 
Anyhow ... Use dry Mao.


On you, we'd say harm.

"Oh My!"
"Aye. War Sound"

Harmony as you wed.


Ah.
No word muse (yay...)

Humor Won, Easy Day
Us.
Yes / No?
(Ha. Am wordy)

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