So one thing I’d like to talk about is the rate at which ways we communicate have been changing. For much of the past humans communicated by non idioms and ideas that weren’t thoroughly endorsed by the wider population. And in more recent times we have communicated with complex logically coherent phrases which are properly encouraged from the moment we are conceived. The ways we communicate now are beginning to become so varied that something else happens elsewhere in our lives together. As evolutionary beings we are looking at something akin to dropping the ball because of the number of ‘balls’ we hold up. Yes, the sheer scope and magnitude of recent human evolution is coming close to reviving an “earlier” less complicated state of affairs in the realms of scientific interaction. What has been said about daytime/ night knowledge is coming true throughout civilized society. When we have finished war maybe our clocks will go back to being on time again, whilst West flails and flops to repay the physical debt of that two million years of our combined evolution, as the East grasps the top of our ladder tighter and tighter.
As response to electrical circuits reaches close to full potential at maximum level of conductivity, they emit dark matter waves. Dark matter waves as Stephen Hawking showed us eat up information in this timeline and reveal information about other timelines. This is important because there is a new type of computer known as quantum computers which are starting to pollute this timeline with dark matter waves, and as the veil between alternate universe timelines stretches to allow in further information from subsequent timelines, we have started to observe an artificial alternate universe. With this the scientific community actively begins a new movement that could reach full motion in the form of remarkable flying saucers, Unidentifiable Flying Objects and so on. Objects in the night sky that elude explanation, and that evade consensus from practically any earthlings to whom their unimaginable off world inhabitants had made themselves known.
the title of his piece
“A decade, my son.” His answer holds you aghast until he says “Your fate is excellent today,“ taking a shallow breath as the boat’s bow lurches over a reedy embankment.
Colours are starting to overlap towards the larger trees, there, near the overhanging branches of that creek. And I see a stepping stone bridge.
She calls softly to an infant. Ah! There it is. I think of all the good things that I have left undone, and her baby begins to become agitated. So I ask her “If I give you this horse’s tail with a mosquito tied to the end of it can I have a couple of oranges?”
Powerfully the man comprehends his existence.
Then a child is born. Growing as a writer, the challenges awaiting him are distilled into a final form. With every nuance of the details he’s been writing he fashions a box to house all his writing. Then he leaves to go on a journey of his own. When he returns to his box he discovers that the title of his piece is missing. So he gathers himself and returns once more to the bamboo corridors and mist filled avenues of adventure to find a title.
“Lunch is always fed at twelve o’clock!” She berates him.
“I don’t care. I want to eat outside anyway.” His surly frown emanating from exuberant eyes. Somber reflection illuminating the passageway from here to the greeting hall, so naturally, that when our hero returns to his father’s house the fluttering pages of his mind will rescind.
the title of this term