Rush rush rush…

I can not stop. Even if not working in so called corporations, even when being a bit crazy, fluffy free spirit, crazy enough to make dreams come true…

… even me, this strange, sure of things happening around me… still I rush, run, escape, skitter, bustle about.

In fact it is so hard to make it slower. To breath every moment, every leaf dropping by me, every acorn, nut or last flower which amazes me with its vibrant and warm colors. To just lie dawn and watch everything slowly going to sleep…

… even maybe sleep with them?

Just go to bed and live in a dream. Which is so much slower, so much more richer, so much saver even when includes nightmares.

All I can see is a rush. People running around in fact doing nothing, in fact having nothing important… although the definition of “important” is so much different than it ever has been. Maybe I just do not fit in it?

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