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stork daddy
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he was jealous in some ways of his friends who liked to fix cars, or learned physics and computers and how to fix things. it seemed sometimes that they knew what happiness was, keeping your head down, climbing each day slowly to the sunrise or set, and never staring at it directly too long, just keeping your nose to your books or your work. it seemed like not having time to ask certain questions kept a person happy, or at least from being unhappy. and yet, it seemed those people were concerned with the details. they were asking how, when there were more glaring questions to be asked. it just seemed that questions about how to move this or that in the world, those which did not step outside of it, those that had answers, kept a person from those questions whose answers negated all those other questions. it seemed he had asked questions too soon which made those other questions seem small and insufficient, accomplices, small league, too mundane. as if he had skipped to the end of a book, and could no longer stomach to build slowly from chapter to chapter, knowing that the answer at the end would be unchanged. and yet perhaps his friends knew something he did not, perhaps the answer was in living those small questions, was in receiving them instead of dismissing them.
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040214
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