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milenat
- 1 840 книг

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Time disappears, and it is just me and the mountain, and the wind. I have always been in this windstorm, I think, as I fight my way forward. And I will always be in this windstorm. Up ahead, on a ridge, is a single tree. Someday, I think, I am going to be reincarnated as that tree. As punishment for every choice I've ever made. Or as a reward.

And is the earth green, anyway? I don't know. The earth outside my window is made of asphalt and noise and people walking around, not looking at each other. Who are these people? Why are they here? Why am I here? I wake up too early and get on the internet. There's a static in my brain.

I've noticed a pattern in my life - I get up, look at the internet, make breakfast, look at the internet, work, eat, look at the internet, maybe hang out with friends (maybe), look at the internet, go to sleep. I'm only really doing one or two non-internet things a day, working and eating, and the rest of my time, my finite time here on this great green earth, is spent looking at the internet.