LiberateOn
Thought Experiment
single space
When I Know My Destination
double space
When I know
my destination,
I can hoist my sails
and tack
back and forth,
whether through
hail or gale,
inching ever closer
to that desired outcome,
through successive
approximations,
on that trail,
double space
which often
seems to travel
at the speed
of a snail,
for the way
of the sail
is different than
airmail, and more
like sitting on
a Clydesdale.
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