#@#¤§%/~^, ,^~/%§¤#@#
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@#§///^^^, ,^^^///§#@
#@#¤§%/~^, ,^~/%§¤#@#
#¤§/^,,,,, ,,,,,^/§¤#
#@#¤§%/~^, Now, Usually I Feel Good (Maybe?), But ,^~/%§¤#@#
#@#¤§%/~^, This Time Of Confusion Also Leads To ,^~/%§¤#@#
#@#¤§%/~^, All Analyzes Ending In "Useless" - I ,^~/%§¤#@#
¤§/~^^^^^, Was Being Bothered By Something In A ,^^^^^~/§¤
¤§§%/~~^^, Song Or Movie Or Book, So I Think, How ,^^~~/%§§¤
##@#§%/~^, Would I Have Done It, What Is The ,^~/%§#@##
#@#¤§%/~^, Purpose Of This Process, What Does It ,^~/%§¤#@#
¤%%~^,,,,, Consist Of...? And Through The Process ,,,,,^~%%¤
@¤%~,,,,,, More And More Pieces Falls Off Until ,,,,,,~%¤@
###¤§%/~^, I'M Standing There With Nothing. ,^~/%§¤###
#§%/^,,,,, ,,,,,^/%§#
¤§%/~~,,,, Reductionist Hell - ,,,,~~/%§¤
###¤§%/~^, I Wan'T A Bottom Floor, A Concept ,^~/%§¤###
#¤§§%~,,,, Bedrock, But The Deeper I Go The More ,,,,~%§§¤#
#@#¤§%/~^, Abstract They Are, The Things, Until ,^~/%§¤#@#
#@#¤§%/~^, They Cease To Be Things At All ,^~/%§¤#@#
#@#¤§%/~^, ,^~/%§¤#@#
@#¤¤§%/~^, Are We Just Stacked Triangles? There Is ,^~/%§¤¤#@
###¤§%/~^, Nothing I Can Do With Triangles. They ,^~/%§¤###
¤%~~~^^,,, Can Not Shelter Me In Any Meaningful ,,,^^~~~%¤
#@#¤§%/~^, Sense. ,^~/%§¤#@#
@#¤¤§%/~^, ,^~/%§¤¤#@
@@#¤§%/~^, And When I Can'T Even Anchor Myself, ,^~/%§¤#@@
##@#¤%/~^, When I Am Nothing But The Question, It ,^~/%¤#@##
#@#¤§%/~^, Feels Like It Can All Slip Through My ,^~/%§¤#@#
¤%~^,,,,,, Fingers... "Whoops", And Nothing Ever ,,,,,,^~%¤
##@#¤§/~^, Was After That. ,^~/§¤#@##
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