souls are science-fiction.
Today, my clothes matched so nicely. At this moment I am listening Sarah Harmer. This is very nice. This is very nice. My throat is suffering from a little scratch, and my entire body feels so sorry for it, that we are radiating large gusts of forceful wind through the passages so as to make it feel better. The throat is everyone's favourite! I also played a lot of nice acoustic guitar today. I sure like chords in the first position, I sure do. I will play guitar for a friendly cat I should meet in a lawn of green grass but also, some yellow spots of fungi infection, and the cat might have some missing patches of fur, and I am also not as well good-looking, so we will be a fine group, the grass, the cat and I. I can't wait. I hope the sky is really cloudy and joyous on that day. Nothing makes a better metaphor for emotions than weather, here is said, I said here. Blood stops circulating to the pinky fingers because they are too small, and never did nothing for nobody. I wish all things were this simplistic. It is my new goal in my livelihood to make things as simple as possible. No more physics, no more bloodcells, no more nucleus, just sun, and snow and cats and bikes and food and touch touch taste ouch fall. But cat's are much nicer, anyways. And my outfit matched so well today. Perhaps I am growing up. I knew it would come. I felt it attacking my immune system like a plague. I still talk/type like a baby, but I love myself for it all the same, so here's to red wine and white flowers and whatever else you have in that basket, there.