We sat in the cafefor many hours. Very little moved. Society shifted positionjust slightly like a large complexmobile moving from the breathof someone sitting across the room. Fourth Avenue seemedlike it always had been, and always would be. Dark clouds movedin over the mountains to the north. The miso soup hadwords emerging and descending from the depths ofthe bowl. The zen masters saythis is Mind, and it moves. No one can see thebottom. I drank the soup andlet the bowl dissolve.
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