Ecstasy's intervention causes the stories of one's life to become solidified in a form of retrospective unity of grace. So far I've learned that my simultaneous joy of solitude and extroversion is something individualizing. Simplified methods of looking at the world in the moment causes this ecstasy. Rooms flash; people move in pixels; all are open; music encompasses, including the magnitude of language. Words move freely from my fingers and I have no idea why. I feel as if I've been going through an interventional finding of sorts. Mystery somewhat helps.
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good to see you back. (=