From my window I see waves, endless, slow, moving. Why does the sea always move, foam, brake?

The nature of words, coherence is lost. I’m not going to try and make a point, or a coherent thought, (that was the one).

Cause waves don’t care, they don’t correct themselves. They don’t want to be understood so why should i worry.

Granted it will become as difficult to read as waves are. It will revolve around words, as it does around water, there is no repetition in waves;

Ludovico Einaudi’s Le Onde is beautiful but not right,

there is no repetition, just because we want to see patterns,

there is no harmony, just such an endless variation that it becomes one

our mind incapable of understanding so we simplify.

We ram it down the throat of grammar in the hope words will be enough to convey.

Make me unhappy, makes me happy not to have to express myself

Thoughts don’t care.

They’ll come when they want to, in words images, not in sentences.

So why put them in sentences.

Let words run wild, foam, brake.

Don’t get me started on clouds.

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