Originally written on December 31, 2002 at 11:00 pm above a wooden porch, a chair, a lap, and a blanket amidst 19 Fahrenheit degree weather.
unmistaken identity = inhuman
Reality is so clear and defined, no wonder man has such a hard tie with indeterminate forms.
Our peculiar thought processes are a result of the functionality of reality, or at least I think that is the order.
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