To be creative. To inspire new, non-normative cognitive confections and then revel in the glory that is yours, and theirs. Sweet - like Egyptian cotton.
Nevertheless, my fair comrades, glory fades. It's like Churchill once said.
Glory. Can you eat it? Can you use it to buy cigarettes or drugs? No. And yet it fades like the dew of foothills in summer heat - a vapourous 'dog that returns to its own vomit.'
Here today. Gone tommorrow. A futile cycle - or is it?
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