It’s a hard circle. The confusion – ‘Can anything be perfectly circular?’ You have to see the moon. It’s a strong intense circle. Entropic-ally ordered circle. Piece-wise consistent. Holding the colour tight. Holding the light tight. Now at the back you get a sense of its dispersion everywhere. But it also holds it tight.
Like the almost dying dog giving birth to ample ones holding it tight with all her teeth tightly clasped not allowing dispersion till a day will come when she will dancingly mix with this entire boom and people will call it death. Like the tree at the balcony giving birth to ample flowers holding it tight. Like you and me holding it tight celebrating every dimension, every scale, every strands of this space time. Like the white spider. Like the black balls of your eye.
Mother you do fantasize moments. Like us.


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