Why are we in different places? I mean, why are we in different places right now while I'm under all this sweetgum? I mean, sweetgum seeds, I rolled one in my hand just now, like I did when I was hypnotized and instructed to reach into my pocket and pull out something that would hold within a whole of my life. One piece, its own whole. I pulled, that day, a sweetgum seed. I rolled its spiked sides in my hand and today did the same. My whole childhood held in that seed which could have been any, but was this one, here. I mean, here in this park in Santa Monica where I was seemingly the only person without a dog or a child. I put down the seed and reached my hands into my pockets. I asked for a new object which could give shape to this life and reached in. My pockets were filled with sand. I mean, my pockets were filled with sand, and you weren’t here.
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