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“Can a still life feel just as majestic and intense as a floating one?”

“Oh my fucking God!”

My car was empty. There are moments you need to say something, even if nobody is there. I guess this was one of those moments. I didn’t consciously think “Oh I’m gonna say these words without any ears to listen.” The words slipped through my lips like sand through the fingers. And there they were, swimming around my old car’s interior, making me feel foolish, and then lonely. I opened the window to the sounds of the resting engines surrounding me. Allowing the words to break free, and rest in somebody else’s lips, waiting for the moment they can escape again. Break lights were something I had to get used to. I didn’t mind them. It seemed as though they were a theme in my life.

There is something about the sunrise that creates nostalgia. Maybe because you need to work hard to watch it as the rest of the world is still sound asleep. Only the birds are awake with you. I am jealous of those birds as they sing. Morning is their time. The night is mine. But then again, the stars can be just as magnificent. I watched the orange, red ball peak over the horizon. The climbing sun is amazing in that way. The way it contains two colors so perfectly. So effortlessly. The concrete freeway surrounding me became beautiful, as the golden light spewed over the gray, cold cement of the road and the buildings, turning it warm again.

“Oh my fucking God.”

I guess I was talking to all those I wanted there with me, sharing that exact moment. I pictured that. I pictured my 1995 Toyota station wagon filled with those who I find fascinating and glorious and part of me. The moments we shared beautiful and fleeting. I had respect and craving for so many I would never see again.

“Can a still life feel just as majestic and intense as a floating one?”

I asked her, the afternoon after the floating red, orange sphere rose, making concrete look like splendor. I was genuinely terrified. My addiction to moments was severe.

She looked at me calmly.

“Yes.”

She said simply. Her smile was not condescending, but knowing, and I found myself trusting her.

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Socks with unibrows And this one Back home with this one Flying They own 18 beautiful cars together and each day they wear a shirt that matches the color of the car they are driving that day
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