Life is one continuous sentence.
At times it’s a run on, nonsensical babble.
At other times, a magnificent monologue worthy of intellectual rumination.
It’s punctuated by variations of joy, peace, and pain. Critics love it, critics hate it.
Faux pas, distasteful puns, and typos are rife.
Sparks of brilliance and clarity make it make sense again.
Tangents that lead to poetic insights and understanding, vocabulary and prose become are refined over many periods until one day there is nothing left to say.
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