Every overcast morning is overcast in its own way. This one’s dull and slow, a gray squirrel on a small dead tree licking its genitals.
The view from my front porch first thing in the morning, in 140 or fewer characters.
Every overcast morning is overcast...
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I find animals’ innocence of the vulgar an excellent example to us of how to “just be” in the Buddhist sense.
Yeah, I agree.