Sometimes the bubbles touch each other
and become a big bubble that only goes up.
Up through the dams and forests and traffic lights and gasoline and the affairs.
With divided nucleus and bright petals
the affinity grows into a conviction.
The long big bubble takes the strive towards an observable infinity.
Freedom has nothing to do with clarity.
It’s a trap, a labyrinth of tended wonder.
The joy is in the simple forms of deformations.
A large course of animals grow when it becomes a struggle everyday.
The days lost to failures have lights to shine on the days lost to absence.
The soldiers of an awareness are constant in their procession of disruption.

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Photograph: Alice Mariette.