Everyone's writing with sentimentality and I've played my part in this scripted commodity. Wrote some words for the sake of originality, crossed them out to partake in a well known duality.
Wherever you go you're bombarded by clamor. Inside or elsewhere, it doesn't matter. White noise has a way of tapping like a hammer and the water's rush has a whole other manner.
Don't underestimate the greatness of a liquid state. A pond that winter's frozen is summer's means for an escape. And in the spring we'll watch it break, beneath the roof we helped create while eagerly we contemplate the work of every drop of rain.
Often now we speak with excess sincerity in an effort to believe in the words and their brevity.
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