Well where have I been? Nowhere consiquential.
As this is about work and not so much accounts of my life I haven't had much to say. I dont know where inspiration is going but i am not finding it.
I have been removed from the yearning that takes me to the places i write about. I could say its isolation, but perhaps its just feeling the pieces do not fit. Maybe that i am lying to choose the mantles I wear. To say your living a lie you have to pretend yourself defined. Right now I couldn't dream to say I identify with A or B. For the moment I am the mass, or at that i'll play. Empty myself and fill again with contentment.
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