I scream silently at the menotonous rocky roads of our circular economies. Constancy is fallacy when the entropy is a constant in our universe. Time is but a vector that we follow, forced to obey by the signs of our senescence.
Read PostA swirl of emotions and mixed metaphors question the utility of it all, this aesthetic of prejudicial arrangement exists without compromise, promise, or otherwise. Hope is a foul four-letter word, I prefer hopium and the addictions in the face of limited liberty.
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