Contemplative fieldnotes: Last night I dreamt I was atop Mt. Snowdon, the wind howling as I looked across. Singing a yogic song. Strange thing in dreams, if you turn towards the aesthetic quality of stillness amid chaos, the chaos collapses. Something about symbolism in there.
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Nah, cricket sucks. I don’t allow that nonsense in my house.
End of conversation
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Heheheh
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