This place is just a place. This place is nothing more than a place. A place is exactly that until you put meaning and purpose. Meet me a the taxi cab where the first pass each other streets. Or maybe at the rental place we set to visit. Nonetheless, In this quiet office of mine properly sorting, guiding people, and placing objects in corrective places and settings is something of a importance.

This is a habit, no this is a unknowingly, or it could force-able lifestyle this is what I call an obsessive habitual and/or environmental behavior.



This poem is yet to be continued or completed.




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