Everyday, I spend an hour looking at the backs of people’s heads. And the tops of cars. And listening to complete strangers sing about love, and loss, and hopes, and dreams. The impulses racing in from my eyes and ears swirl in my head like an immiscible mixture. I find myself simultaneously floating in the air and sliding across the ground; simultaneously soaring with inspiration and rolling in mundaneness; simultaneously dreaming and awake. Or is it the other way round?


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