Does opinion count for something (I think sitting by the window) in this world where everything is opinion? As the tired sunlight lazily breaks through the clouds and smog of the human ego, it washes over my face and I bask in the realization (again and again) that it’s all opinion. Yes, even the pacific ocean with all her might is an opinion to an awakened butterfly. With one flap of a wing, he can put out a raging blaze in the Amazon forests. I relax into the eternity of the moment.
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