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■ The oak
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I never asked my words,
to carry messages, I never enslaved them, to become readable posters, of my inner self. I never learned my words as meanings, I left them free, to become independent of my will. I only control their sounds, I could go further and write, I ONLY SERVE TO THEM. It might not have sense to you, these words you’re reading, but I’ve already told you, they are free. These are the words spoken by words. Words are never hard to find, they are everywhere. A mute world is full of words. They exist in their most pure state, as thoughts. Thoughts are words, and words are you. You are a page full of signs.
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