We who are still gripped by the power of big ideas.
Take the cash you pour down your throats or filter through your lungs, and all the cash you exchange for ordinary sushi handrolls and unloved salads. Think of how much it all is. Turn it into a seed, and keep feeding it.
Keep feeding it. Stay strong.
I'll have a library out of this, wood paneled from wood i sanded and oiled myself, each novel inscribed on the date it was purchased in the Paperback Bookshop on Collins Street. I'll have a house in the fold of a mountain, with heavy scented grass pushing up against the back fence and gravel at the doorstep.
The three of us will drive in convoy, three sleek Ferraris hugging mountain roads like lizards. It'll be cold when we return, and we'll open wine and invite women and listen to music, while outside nothing's happening for miles.
It will be morning, again and again. But we know its more than just that.
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