Clean Windows I hadn’t chalked it in my pocket planner— existential crisis: 8am— but plans, I’ve come to find, are quite subservient to present things. A pinch of pepper on my eggs, some salt, and then does God exist?, as if I needed that to wash it down, as if one has to reason out this kind of thing before the second cup of coffee. No, unwanted wondering is not a trait I’m proud to keep sustained inside, but as it seems that we are at a tipping point of sorts, the point where cutting clean the canker kills the tree, I’ll learn to coexist with it the best I can, if flustered at the circumstance. For sake of clarity, it’s most like opening the door to start your day when in comes clambering an addled bird to flip chaotically about your kitchen, forcing you to either kill it, hide behind the couch, or simply let it flap about for long enough that it eventually wi...
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