Recycling
You get someone else's shit and you sit within it for a bit, biting down, brow scratching, until bang, just like that, band!
We have not even begun recycling as a species. Our mind is tempered to concepts of place and object-space. Hair falls to the ground.
Succession brings comfort and not emotion nor thinking.
Louis Armstrong is rock and roll.
Retirement living has shot through both work and leisure. The leisure has become so monotonous that is exhibits work-symptoms. It is a stress to be at leisure all the time. Without work every direction is deathward. Take leisure in work.
As space rearranges repetition wobbles only to be set off again by another rearrangement as soon as it had itself centred.