Sunday, January 4, 2009


Each time I move down, I feel like I'm falling from the skies, down to the ground. I must have been rain drop in my last life. The fall makes my stomach go woozy. And when I go up I feel like a bird soaring into the sky in search of the right breeze to glide on.

I hate stopping at floors on each of these rises and falls. But that I guess is my only purpose in life so to speak. As you can see these are just some of my musings. Almost like that of a blind man.

(On the lift)

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