Love is the Word of the Day

Silence is not consent. Silence is not discontent. How strange is it to walk by others nonchalantly, who have requested that you do not speak to them? Is it not surreal to meet the long loved, of your lost love while contemplating the intuitions hidden behind a face painted fiercer and fiercer with each successive year, to the achievement of what end, we do not know? Elsewhere silence falls like Durandals on the runway. Warnings echo through spooked minds around, and around, and around, like husky puppies in the snow. Summer love is fleeting, but summer here never fails. After years of silence the distance in minds that easily forget is forgotten. Only resilient memories bear the marks of parting. Ignorance is bliss. Utter bliss. Utter sleepy bliss.

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