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snow globe06 January 2002 - 22:21 Someday our civilization will be elaborated beyond recognition. What came from thoughts will return to thoughts: we won't even be able to get back to Chopin. When I thought of this, I was in a car, a passenger, flying over roads I've never seen before, and I realized that at that moment Chopin was already a memory. Why do some fantasies feel so different from others? Why do some feel like memories. Me in my 30s in a black coat. Pale face. Quiet meditative eyes, much cooler than now. Climbing stone stairs to a city apartment. In the snow. If I had to describe myself in one word: self-contained. |