We’re a wind that blows through the trees, sure the sound it makes proves it’s solid. Yeah, we’re breeze-beings identifying ourselves by any gust that’s conveniently dualistic.
Come to think of it… any breeze that defines anything is a temporary be-ing that come and goes, confined by the mirrors of its own whining and whistling reflection.
Blow in to examine your perception of life, existence, and non-existence.
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