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January 15, 2011
My thoughts are sand today. Glittering in the sunlight, each grain with its own unique hue. They blur together, toppling over each other like children in a playpen, heedless of their parents' aggravated calls for caution.

"Be patient!" they cry. "Don't move too fast, or you'll be forgotten!"

"Who cares? Who cares?" the little ones laugh. "What's the point if we can't have fun?"

My thoughts are sand today. Clinging to the palms of my sweaty hands, then slipping through my fingers and scattering themselves into the wind.

"Who cares? Who cares? What's the point without fun?"