Hellbent on infinite intuition. Savor the systemic cold shock of the serene winter shoreline. Dream of spaceship moonshot engineering with an atypical-for-the-archetype love of self and self-preservation. Search for alchemical wizardry for the atom-age; turn sand into gold into robot arms and flying machines. Build the objects that make humans more human. Build systems that make societies more sociable. Do it cheaply, and often. Share. Make hay in the emissions of a far-distant nuclear fusion. Dance, in the laser light and bouncing pressure differential, for the entire revolution. Quietly insist on sharper, more clear, and more alive.
marco {dot} cross {at} icloud {dot} com
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