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The streetlight on the corner of 8th and Harriet talks in Morse code every Sunday night at half past eight. Maybe it’s asking to be saved from the blistering cold. Maybe it has feelings for the moon and is only trying to be noticed. It must get lonely working the same corner for years and nobody bothers to return thanks. My guess is it’s trying to communicate with fellow streetlights and plan an attack like the Ents did before they went to war on Isengard. But then again, only in my mind I make perfect sense. After all, it is just a malfunctioning street light.
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Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
Making Sense of Nothing
The streetlight on the corner of 8th and Harriet talks in Morse code every Sunday night at half past eight. Maybe it’s asking to be saved from the blistering cold. Maybe it has feelings for the moon and is only trying to be noticed. It must get lonely working the same corner for years and nobody bothers to return thanks. My guess is it’s trying to communicate with fellow streetlights and plan an attack like the Ents did before they went to war on Isengard. But then again, only in my mind I make perfect sense. After all, it is just a malfunctioning street light.
benny-the-jet
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Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 7:38 PM UTC
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