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A little sad on the outside, we have to get it inside.

Emotional pull and push can seem like an unfortunate wrapping that needs to be discarded quickly.

Better to find the time as soon as possible or not possible and get it inside so it can be understood, fully, experienced, totally, run like a movie, from start to finish.

That’s the way music moves us, sadness steals us and steels our structure, and the way to “deal with it”.

Some call it processing, it’s name is unimportant.

Getting all around it and breathing through it, beating it like an unwilling piece of steak, squeezing and touching it – there’s the cure.

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Dreams to order.

Delivered to your door…no wait! Direct to your mind.

Some of the most popular “dream embroiderers” are said to be generating millions in tax-free income every year.

Authorities are worried. This seems largely so they can prove they are worth their salaries. After all if they are worried they surely must have cause, if they do have good cause they must be doing something.

Or, perhaps they are daydreaming.

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Dripping with salty water.

After a swim in the warm waters off the Hana area of Maui, we decided to navigate the road where car rental companies refused insurance cover on their cars, back to town.

It was easy.

We passed the old house of George Harrisson, then the small store and then greenness beyond belief.

We are townies invading a lush backdrop.

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Something started an alarm.

Bells were ringing and lights flashing, but none could hear the clanging nor see the flashes of red signs.

No need to fit an alarm system when you have one inbuilt from birth.

We all do you know!

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With a view to utopia.

Seen in passing, an instruction manual and an old clay pipe.

A dinner jacket had been discarded nearby and a breeze carried the scent of orange and magnolia.

Drums playing an erratic scat of rhythm and sheer disturbance patterns penetrated the cool quiet of submission.

They flicked fans as if practicing polishing a newly turned imbuia wood salad bowl.

And there, half-covered in the red sand was the spine of a seemingly old book.

Gutenberg got there before us.

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