A million points poke me everywhere as the words spill from a page, and I am reaching out for something. And you are pretending to understand, waiting for me to finish.

I speak, reading my newest discovery, buried deep in a book of chinese proverb, and try to make somebody understand the severity. In the end, your expressions and reactions make me feel ridiculous.

In my room, it felt so tangible and weighty. In the sad smoke of this coffee shop, with distractions and the imitation of life all around, it just seems old, feeble and trembling until somebody finally puts it out of its misery with a fortune cookie joke.

Nevermind.

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