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May 2017
Reclined on the bed watching
solitude and smoke wafting
into apparent nothingness reflected
by the bathroom
mirror:
it is still there,
somewhere,
surely,
entropy.

In this
one thinks
one understands
something,
at least something,
about the nature
of being,
but of course
one does
not:
it is all just
smoke
and mirrors.
Written by
Celso Moskowitz  29/M/Portugal
(29/M/Portugal)   
143
 
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