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
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Scenes from a commute
Not from today, or even from the same day, but catching up on some of the photos I've taken.
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