Do you have places you go or things you do, where nothing matters anymore, in the sense that nothing ordinarily stressful is stressful?
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This is an old post I re-worked and re-posted. Do you ever find the quiet voice is the most compelling?
In the place I want to find, the fall never ends. A paper airplane, once it reaches the top of its arc, descends forever. A drink, once spilled, spills toward the ground forever. The leaves, when they drop, float slower and slower until they seem still. Every time there is a kiss, a green leaf [...]
Perhaps the right kind of material can absorb enough light to heat the air inside it, giving us hot air balloons that need no fuel. Would you like to travel the world in a balloon?