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The Kosta Equivalent.

Name:
Joseph
Location:
External Services:
  • kasmoie@livejournal.com
--this is a time capsule of what my mind used to think about a long time ago--

Like the chirping of the mexican dishwashers, the clatter of dishes hitting the rack as the hispanics peer through a haze of steam and piles of oddly shaped dishes stacked at awkward angles. Laughing in chorus as spanish flys from one mouth to every ear. I dont know what they are saying, but I know the feeling.

Riding my bike through thick grass I inhale the burning scent of summer and release the tension of days past. Dead and dying shoots of spring grass whipping at bare ankles, glaring sun shining through thick air.

And as I sit in a booth with her looking at me in the eyes, telling me stories with tension, she asks me to kiss her, and I have nothing better to do than oblige.

There are exactly two ways to live. For the moment, or not. In every second their are millions of variables being fed to your brain through an immense data transfer infrastructure. For everything there is a macro, like an ant in the middle of a football stadium but at the same time there is always a micro. Like a football stadium with an ant inside it. How much you pay attention to the world around you, to the macro and the micro is exactly how much you get out of life.

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