finding writing time not occupied with so-called 'projects' nor 'personal fulfillment', whatever that may mean.
how do you put yourself into the state of not expecting any result out of your anticipations? when do you happen to be in a selfless act? or better: whenever you act selfish, could you ever restrain from the constraints of contemporary struggles or personal involvement?
where do you expect to find freedom?
is it hidden in your bedroom? or behind your shelf?
within the ancestral bounds of bloodlines,
another extent of hierarchiecal columns.
sieving the seditations of a mellennial's apperception,
perpendicular occurence of pre-narrated evidence,
leading to another kind of speculance.