When we forget where we are

In broken door knobs one finds nothing fitting yet all things resolved that all we can do is watch with tinted glasses the never ending debate between the growing amount of coins displaced by the vibrating utterance of a lost generation and that technologically infused support of a new age of equality that by being all at the same level of ability we are all at the same level of opportunity. Nothing is so fitting to this picture then the device facing my direction confused as to its displacement in its own age of existence as if it was ignored by ages of rediscovery, hidden by the lasered generational gap it acknowledges its lost placement and its new found friendship with the inorganic yet aggressive dust empire. But that is all not so true chimed in the four identicals that would be seemingly unique were it not for their rather large brandishing of commercialism signifying from where exactly they were extracted and for what occasion they rest now blocking the one piece of independence that lay behind them, the one identifier of uniqueness that established this obscure scene of incoherence. But sadly it cannot take center stage in this dramatic interpretation of humanity for if the transparent productions did not stand in its way it would still have to shuffle passed yet another mark of technological debris that was currently directing itself in such a fashion as to obstruct any sort of path the one uniqueness of this multitude of products could take to show itself as something special, something worth remembering after the end curtain falls.

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