found in a text file dated 2008·02·19:

In the morning it was over.

Like a lowly wave washing him onto the beach, the emotional contrast returned. The wants; the needs; the high stakes of living precariously: all quietly resumed their posts. In the sunshine, memories rose and turned their heads to gawk—"what happened to him?", they wanted to know, and "where is he going?", they wondered, because he no longer paid them any mind like he used to.

They were no longer his to bear, and so he ignored them. One day, in the sunshine, he left unnoticed (the same way he came). On a hill across the sea, the flowers pondered "who is he?" and "what brings him here?", but he didn't know, so he laid in the grass beside them and pondered too.

"How wonderful", the flowers thought, "to be so meaningless".

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