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EDEN by FREI
A concept narrative in the here & now about the where, the wherefore and forever {starts 1/8/2015}
A concept narrative in the here & now about the where, the wherefore and forever {starts 1/8/2015}
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If you accept that you are one among billions of species pursuing an evolutionary path, you become both vanishingly small and insignificant, of course, but also, in the same vein and by the same definition, exquisite, privileged, amazing.
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the light shone through my eyelids straight into my soul into my central nervous system
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I breathe in, I breathe out. The swirls of air from my mouth form undulations of flowers whose pollen disperse and populate the void. It is a paradise. It is rich. It is the land of beauty, abundance. This is where I belong, this is home.
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My heart breaks, I want to hug him and say: everything is all right, and you're quite right too, and your little friend: sometimes everything is just a dream, but not in this cynical, clinical way your little friend's dad now makes you think and worry…
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I welcome The Ice King onto me with my eyes, and as he melts into my open armed, open ribbed, open mind being, I feel we are no longer one I feel we now simply are and having him having me makes the ice disappear and the fire burn out and the water rise…
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After three decades, I still write work that to me seems entirely 'reasonable', that is perhaps individual, but that certainly does not set out to baffle, and it still baffles people.
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Naked we walk hand in hand on the ice that has no horizon, it just melds with the sky. It extends so far that the eye wants to rest but the light and the ions and the glow of the heart have emboldened us to go on.
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'Indeed,' thinks Sedartis, 'it is. Your ethical challenges have just gone exponential. You have a task on your hand; there is no way around it, because this is as inescapable as reading glasses or pacemakers were at their time, and you've quite readily…
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As we reach the top of the hill and turn right to immerse ourselves in the current of the city, I put my arm around George's shoulder, and we walk the now even street, still in silence. He knows who I am, I am sure. He won't remember when he is me to have…
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I float on the easy current along the stately swans and the comical ducks and I wonder. Was that necessary? Was that emotion? Was that too much? The cloudlets above sing a round that lulls me into a new kind of sleep and I dream that I am already restored…
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