November 23, 2011
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Isn’t it strange how
You can sit in a car and
It is quiet, a humming, maybe
And the car seems to be gliding
On the road that is as smooth
As glass and the hillsides are
Rushing by of their own accord
Because they really have someplace
To be? But we, we are just sitting,
Sitting still, minding our own business.
It’s all perspective, my friend.

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