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Walking along a simple street cars rush past Quickly, slowly Step by step On my way, Home, On the horizon It comes Where did it go? Why does it come? A shot, frozen, small Colors, sounds… smell? It does not flood, Instead it trickles, Bit by bit Grasping, Evading? Attending, Avoiding? What prompts this? Nothing current Nothing surrounding me. Except this Accept this. Okay this time. Simple past passing by, cars on the street.