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,,,,,^-;†£ Morning Quiet £†;-^,,,,,
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,,,,,,,,,^ I Sit In My Cubicle In The Work Mill ^,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,, And Feel Somewhat At Peace - I'Ve ,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,, Entered A Bright Anomaly. Morning ,,,,,,,,,,
,,,,,,,,,, Liminality. ,,,,,,,,,,
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,,,,,,^-;† No One Is Here. There'S Dust In The †;-^,,,,,,
,,,,,^-;†£ Air. A Strong Light Shines Through The £†;-^,,,,,
,,,,^-;†£¤ Windows, And Turns The Office Into ¤£†;-^,,,,
,,,^-;†£¤@ Something New. I Pretend It'S The Sun. @¤£†;-^,,,
,,^-;†£¤@# #@¤£†;-^,,
,^-;†£¤@## I Speak With The Plants In My Head. ##@¤£†;-^,
,,^-;†£¤@# They Are Getting Too Much Water, Or The #@¤£†;-^,,
,,,^-;†£¤@ Water They Get Is Of Dubious Quality. @¤£†;-^,,,
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