one would think that crying about specific things, at certain times, with devotion, attention to detail, that tears themselves would be liquid crystal time machines. they could harvest all the rains and all the oceans and in one saline atom of salt, span forwards and backwards, up and down, between, over, under and through the real actual experience of time on earth. tears are hope, they spring forth from the purest of hearts, the emptiest of guts, the dirtiest of lungs and the strongest of loins. tears are all the water, ever. so i figure, for as long as i live, as long as i can cry and drool, time made manifest from before and after is the water streaming from eyes, the virtue of trust, the ardor of beauty.
i cry a lot about bottled water.
about people who buy bottled water.
about bottles of water that hydrate the humans and kill the water.
fifco is a bottling behemoth.
with a tiny pecker.
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