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i am fond of collecting things.

i have premature nostalgia.
i have perpetual nostalgia.
i have permanent nostalgia.

they don’t get it.

you know those earworms that give you spatial spasms in the brain and linger for days on end, and how with every listen a different instrument or voice becomes clearer than crystal, and a certain magical chord appears even more wrenching and ingenious than the prior listen, and you can blast it on loop a hundred times a day and it will be a hundred different magical moments in your head?

they don’t get it. it’s a pity.

ar·ray /əˈrā/ Noun
an impressive display or range of a particular type of thing

dis·ar·ray /ˌdisəˈrā/ Noun
a state of disorganization or untidiness

you go for a walk and
cease thinking and
resist rationalising and
stop dead in your tracks and
your heart suddenly tells
you that if home is
no where, then home is
every where.

Beep here.

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