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I keep tripping over half-packed boxes,
that lay scattered on the floor,
between bits of trash and tape.

Life is always in constant motion, even when we are standing still,
but something about this rock solid city, makes the motion harder to see.

It’s harder to see a reason to move on.
It’s harder to see the plan ahead.
It’s harder to see a more comfortable life than this.

But, I am not looking for a life of comfort.
I am looking for stamps on my passport, and residence cards from other worlds.
I am looking for a life where the constant motion of the universe gets packed into every box.

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