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What is it about?

Let me whisper as the neurons fire, let me walk you through the tale, as the flavor rises, the shiver, it's back, and I don't know why, but I know exactly why.

Beautifully cut pieces, flavor waiting to be lived, I fail at describing, as the many lagers stand beside me. What can I say, you know the path you must walk, what can I say, I've been here before, but I put down a different set, a different combination which were I a man of the past, would have frowned upon.

As I stand back, I remember the stone, I remember the words, and the very subtle steps that marked an eluded happiness in a tale that brings a smile which knows no origin.

I pack it up and to hell with it I say, I have put away the book of knowledge, and turned back to page one on experience. Everything is different now, and although I make no promises of repetition, I acknowledge the product of my very motion. Let me not think for once, and just be. Let me just be because that is all that I want.

Perfect or imperfect, I assure myself of no truer words other than the ones in copy. I am not one to know who I am, but rather, one to know that I am not one, but rather, any one I want to be.

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