To write of the ordinary puts one in touch with the strange and simple surreality of the world. That routine insanity surrounding us all. We must realize that the crazed state is not a detached existence. It is a dark mine shaft within us all that continually issues minerals of emotion. Only a handful of us are able to recognize the shaft and trade its treasures for cash. Yet our curse is to eventually die of Potter's Rot or Weil's Disease or Black Lung.
But,
We are among the rich,
Who die proudly,
On beds of gold.
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