Spring has arrived the radioactive spring the spring of the shortage, the dark spring. Spring has arrived. Now visible are the first shoots of plants that will destroy the granite, that will overturn the order, that will lead to a bright tomorrow after the catastrophic misery yet to be endured.
Spring has arrived. There is still the remote hope of the Catalan sun, burning bright, and the satori which will transcend the complete loss of everything which will enable us to be free to do anything.
Spring has arrived, and remotely the promise of the sticky hot Zhejiang summer, the smile on the face of the abbot of the timeless temple which endures despite the temblors and upheavals and poison.
Spring has arrived. And with it the thieves and patriots are emboldened, the citizenry is outraged, the children rebellious, and the rocks and stones cry out, "Let me be your messenger!"
Spring has arrived, with and all the timeless wisdom and ignorance and compassion and hatred permeates space like the dew and fog that abound outside the outskirts of the benighted city.
Spring has arrived, and for a few weeks it is Wednesday, Anything Can Happen Day.
Spring has arrived, and like this it is none but a tragic farcical replay of Matinée d'Ivresse, and few care or are aware because it ain't squat, it ain't a paper cut even, compared to the horrors of Kampuchea and Auschwitz and the Great Leap Forward.
But it still early Spring. And I'm actually pretty optimistic despite the pervasive gloom that can be found that things won't be quite that horrible. May your near future be far better than the worst it could be.
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