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<title>No nothing | Autocento of the breakfast table</title>
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<h1 class="title">No nothing</h1>
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<p>While <a href="father.html">swimming in the river</a><br />I saw underneath it a river<br />of stars. Only there was no<br />river: it was noon. You can<br />say <a href="music-433.html">the sun is a river</a>; you<br />can argue the stars back it<br />like <a href="lovessong.html">shirts behind a closet</a><br />door; you can say <a href="big-dipper.html">the earth</a><br />holds us up with its weight<br />or that it means well or it<br />means anything.<br /> There is no<br />closet, <a href="amber-alert.html">nor door</a>; there are<br />no shirts hanging anywhere.<br />There is no false wall that<br />leads deep into the earth’s<br />bowels, <a href="real-writer.html">growing warmer</a> with<br />each step. Warmth as a con-<br />cept has ceased to make any<br />sense. In contraposition to<br />cold, it might, but cold as<br />well <a href="i-think-its-you.html">stepped out</a> last night<br />and hasn’t returned.<br /> Last I<br />heard, it went out swimming<br />and <a href="in-bed.html">might’ve drowned</a>. Trees<br />were the pallbearers at the<br />funeral, the train was long<br />and wailful, there was much<br /><a href="http://biblehub.com/luke/13-28.htm">wailing and gnashing</a> of all<br />teeth–though there were no<br />teeth, no train, no funeral<br />or prayer or trees at all–<br />nor a <a href="howtoread.html">river underneath</a> any-<br />thing. There was nothing to<br />be underneath anymore.<br /> Look<br />around, and tell me you see<br />something. Look around, and<br />tell me something that I do<br />not know. I know, more than<br />anything, that the world is<br />always ending. Behind that,<br />there is nothing, save that<br />there is no nothing either.</p>
<p>Nothing somehow still turns<br />and flows past us, past all<br />time and beyond it, a river<br />returning, to its forgotten<br />origins deep within itself.</p>
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