Time might not flow but it presses from behind just the same. Always a new day, a new old. Just the same but filled from all directions with the option to elect different answers to the questions.
Keeping busy results in 'keeping happy' because I enforce ignorance. Cluttering my immediate consciousness so I may blind myself for a while. It is easier this way. But what kind of life does a blind man live? What type of being runs from its own awareness? Typical types?
To point out bad symmetry :: from class example and inner contest: If you are given a gift without your consent, a gift that all others cherish, yet you alone may now enjoy it, do you owe it to the whole to experience and sap the gift? Does the rose have concealed thorns fashioned from duty, hidden along the stem? Would the answer change if you were alike to all others except in chance?
How tiresome it has become to carry responsibility for my days.
