The bluebells are back en masse, just as a reincarnation of your black tulip graces the green earth again.
With my nose still bleeding from my latest crash with the reality behind a mirage, my tide is on the rise again. It just has to.
I make myself fly by tugging on my own shoelaces, daring to dream, lest I wither, die and join the legion of zombies that thrive on copy/paste.
A billion words, each of them containing a billion of acts of active search for that coffee. For that decaff that gives palpitations...
...or just a "how do you do?" type of coffee.
I hear people say "I'd do anything for a coffee", but they don't know the true meaning of that statement.
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