A window can either be a prison cell door or a sunset-catcher.
A clock can either be a death sentence or an old day in labor
to birth a new one. Live to work or work to live, glass half
empty or glass half full. Even still, I live between the lines of
indecision, incapable of picking sides, choosing either party.
Glasses half something, windows both captive and capturer.
This is my only philosophy on life: nothing is divisible by
fact or fiction. Reality is nonpartisan— it is neither this
nor that, blank versus blank, one particular as opposed to
another. The only real reality is the window itself, and even
the reality of that can be tested. When I tell you I love you
it is up to you to decide how. I don’t care how you weigh it.

I just hope, if you have to pick a side, it will be the one I am on.

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