Life is the odd cool night in May. Life is the sound of the beach and the wind running through the trees. It's the sound of cellos being plucked. Of sad and happy tunes, floating through our minds. It's visions of grandeur, and realities of war.
Life is buying vegtables at the market. Having the sun stare down and you and later wave good bye. Life is the sun rising over a sleeping city or the sahara or the savana. Life is getting up and at it. Life is breaking down. Life is tangled cables and dandruff free hair.
Life is easy. Life is morning wood. Life upliftment from all pain and sorrow. Life is being thrust into darkness. Life is the eventual outcome of just one possibility among millions. Life shouldn't be, but is anyway. So are fridays. And Murders.
Life is a mathematical equasion, incomprehensible but clear to some mind's eye. Life is the sound of ice crushing beneath his feet, or her feet, or mine. Life is a lonely outlaw in the wild wild west. Life is agirl with a broken past and a gorrila who just ate his banana.
Life is an apple. Life is a bee. Life is microwave oven, heating a bowl of noodles or a family of three. Life is an inglorious basterd. Life is puppy dog eyes, and a keyboard, and the trombone!
Life is yellow carpets on grey concrete floors on peach colored ceiling paint. Life is the lawn and the needle on a fly. Life is over before it even begins, it's the longest pair of legs you've ever seen, or a kiss, or a hug or a dream. Life is just perfect. It doesn't exist. It's still not sure.
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