I want write a postcard and put in a time machine, and send it to myself, I'm not looking to change the world, maybe alter mine a bit. Less hand-wringing than you'd think, more educated guesses and a few more successes. I have the mistakes, they are clear, the victories are few and far between. More often than not you float to the middle, rare occasions are up or down. The meat of the curve, thoroughly mediocre and passionately average.
1 comment:
prose poetry, cool
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