I start out tonight re-reading Dave Eggers again complimented with Debussy Clair de Lune.
God: I own you like I own the caves.
The Ocean: Not a chance. No comparison.
God: I made you. I could tame you.
The Ocean: At one time, maybe. But not now.
God: I will come to you, freeze you, break you.
The Ocean: I will spread myself like wings. I am a billion tiny feathers. You have no idea what's happened to me.
Times like these I can’t help but think of “what ever happened to Martin Lawrence?”
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