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29 Jan 2006 |
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I like the rain. I know most don’t, but there’s poetry to the droplets striking on the glass and sliding down. Perhaps that is only because I can see the futility in it all. Rain falls, it turns to a vapour with heat, rises back into the clouds, and falls once more. It’s locked in that circle no matter what it does or what it tries. It can change to be snow, ice, or something of that sort, but in the end, it is only rain, just hiding under another mask.
I think that people are the same in that respect. We can change our hair, eyecolour, clothing, or just about anything else with medical advancements but we are still ourselves. We can try to cast away the things that make us ourselves, but like the waters coming back to the shore, they sweep up to us once more in the form of flotsam and jetsam.
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