I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Tuesday morning, trying to be more hopeful
Here's some views of the morning commute. The cattails came out better than yesterday, but there was less ice this morning. The ability to stop and take a good photo provided curtesy of ODOT, which has somehow forgotten that Labor Day means the end of orange barrel season/
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