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Things happen. 
All becomes matter. 
A sign, a book. 

Sign of change, in these times, and of what happens to oneself, signs. The sticks and stones we've gathered from being. Being here, being there, and just being. 

What of this just being. This being without a name attached, being without being designated 'human'. This human self, without this designated self, just being. 

Being without words, being before language, a being of movement, shaping and forming  being. This being, embodied, able. 

I have some water, I'm sitting, the iPhone in my left hand, tapping letters, letters appearing as words, words associated with other words, becoming sentences. Being as becoming. 

Music plays, the background, perceptible, listening, imperceptible, atmosphere. Modes of being and becoming, aware. Conscious. I'm awakening. Into the day, into being human, things to do, things to say, things. My dreams, grounded, embodied, now silent and still, atmosphere, ambience, imperceptible. 

Coffee, stirs the soul, my soil, this ground, these grounds, from the soil, this Earth. A night of sleep, far away, lingering, shaping, forming the background to today. This language, these words, a movement, a sign. 

Things happening, a reality begins to manifest itself around me. A reaction, a response, a reflection, within a moment. A feeling, a thought happens to me. I riff off of reality. Reality resonates. 

I stay with this moment of feeling. Thoughts manifest themselves, a perception of things happening, a perception of my awareness. I take a breath, long, deep, embodied, being. 

That's it, on with the day, sun shines, a walk, a bike ride, some food, water. 

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