1 Back your shit up.
2 Plant that flocking seed.
3 Grow the best you can.
4 – 5 All the four words, spread over three sentences
(or two times four in one!).
6 – None of them stuck.
Not even the sentence six.
All the mozaic in the world can’t give you a clear picture if there is no frame around it. It’s like dropping mercury on the ground. You feel splattered in million drops.
We knew we planted seeds. We did it without thinking and wonder if we haven’t been dreaming longer than we’ve actually been alive. Dream sheep tried smelling the past, but he got caught in the mist. Perhaps it was steam. Perhaps it was a clouding of judgement, deliberately set in to prevent to actually feel. How many times do you have to peel an onion before you start believing tears? He knew he was nowhere without confession sheep. He now had to talk for the both of them, and this was an impossible job. How can you wear black and wear white at the same time? Can you disappear in the middle? Exist in the middle? Be born there perhaps?