A pile of stuff

Getting everyone to show up in the same place and time had been a thing. It was a sort of filter in itself as a certain set of things where only possible in such a crowd. And others impossibly unlikely. In these mixtures the ingredients where unstable and themselves, sometimes, only for an instant and then dubiously. This selected against a timid type of happening that disliked the crowds and the trash of too much close together. It turned out to be alright to be bias and to state your own opinion because it would be unlikely that that would help someone else understand you. And they finally knew it. And they could now feel the Joy and the Anger and not blame you. And you could stop with the asking them to pay for how they felt. Could it for that now be already. I wonder what makes it true that something seemed to hold the idea together in the first place. Understand me please at the price of peril. Nothing that before was possible will become impossible. Loss is, as far as I know, a thing of limit. An argument on the subject would prove it. Suffice to say it and waste no time unless the object now be waste. Loss and waste being of a similar attitude or roommates in collage or having been seen together by chance or not at all. It is to be expected that the worlds stories act upon the text of which they are composed. Hold on now, for a moment the previous sentence, once again and for a concrete example (see why we must trust one another and what that trust must be). It is to be expected that the worlds stories act upon the text of which they are composed. The sentence may act upon itself (the actual eighteen words). It may then be self consistent (This sentence has five words.) or inconsistent (This sentence is made of five words.). Aren't we really looking for ability with the language and what for. Songs that call songs. PUKE! I catch myself wanting someone to get it. This problem with the hu-man story. A desire for a thing that is the end. For a death. Like the people who know that a photograph is a dying of a thing (a stolen soul). An animate object chained is the understanding of a piece of language like a living image locked by the lens. The illusion never quite complete the soul seeks more and finds it a plenty in uncertainty. So, understand if you will but watch yourself...

...while you do.