Cry-up to the sheerest place in your doubling and it'd be wise to stay there. Considering the difference between staying and remaining (semantically then physically), switch aphorisms with me
If you have pain you have a history
If you have joy have a history
If you have a history, you have a mythos
If have that, go
--
If you have me, you have a habit, perhaps a side-hustle to support it like how I saw the by-day fuitman selling t-shirts on a card table late one night, a few posters from the cinema. I was no customer though, such a regal hush in our recognition of how preposterous it can be, how pre and post, how before, how after, how before-before, how scattered the ideas were across speechlessness and how elite that literacy must have been when you had no joy no pain no history, no knowing me, no criteria to judge your role by besides your desires and their elaborate totems in their everlasting prime. I went back the next night and bought a white t-shirt and a couple of over-ripe peaches whose nectar wept into the cotton with him
