Into the yellow of light we enter at the sunset and open page after page of the written word.The sun shines brightly outside a green carpet against the phonetic drone of a man’s words.Wisdom binds parallel two-dimensional planes together here ,joining them in a common light.

Yesterday we had a bundle of lines cleaning up a room of straight lines. Its light caught them and scooped them up behind a door’s triangle ,after kicking up a storm in luminous diagonals and flying light dust particles as in a dust storm.

Light was dust flying in our face, towards roof. Light is no longer lines nor is broom a bundle resting in a triangular door corner , chafing light.There are light points from room’s broken lines.The points now lie in parallel planes of existence held together and a common light thread runs in them across vast recesses of the human mind.


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