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A wave lapped at the shore, foam tinted red.
Water splashed as boys sprinted from the ocean, running before the surf.
Some fell, and did not rise. Others stumbled, then ran all the more.
Fountains danced upon the sand, becoming flowers for but a moment.
Flowers there would be, but not here, not yet.
Men no longer ran from the surf. They stood with shovels and concrete, waved and shouted.
They built, and the beach disappeared under their construction.
Then they left.
A wave lapped at the shore, foam tinted white.
And the second half of the double feature.
A string. Such a petty, tiny object. Used for mundane tasks, boring tasks. Yet it represents the universe. Ever wonder why that was the case?
Because it is string. Circular, I know. But the infinite possible actions with a piece of string mirror the universe.
Someday, we’ll understand what we see. Truly understand, that is.…
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