MIST! I only love mist. Soap operas, and winter windscreens, and showers, and magicians, and London fairy tales really get me slapped up. I am obsessed with narrowing my line of sight. All the better connect my thoughts to the place I am in. Who needs all that shitty depth. If, at the misty moment, the world’s shit then it is only shit and when its good its good. All that knowledge we carry about the world way over somewhere being shit can screw up my shit. It’s a bother to me. I can only care a little bit for people I have not met. No matter how much I have in common with someone, I just care enough to think and worry a little. Too cowardly and homely to do anything. On a clear day my sight will travel past the horizon to current shitty foreign events but for a few foggy hours that morning I was able to cuddle cozy in my mist.
Running is a mist cliche.
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