There are n possible I was told and nothing to undo or even contradict them.
cosmology of thought exceeds the potential and turns away from the feasible. It defends, it includes no potential of each moment.
numbers nearing completion and the predictions are killing each other.
The bottomless pit is warm, just like the universe without boundaries. They are assured of a fatality every shrunk.
The power of decision is nothing compared to the depletion of possibilities and my carelessness that capsized pleasure.
I like being overtaken by the elements m'appréhendent as a stranger.
Time has spoken too, when he has a grip on things than piecemeal. Just look at the photon, time does not matter their age, they are young since the Big Bang.
Each moment in each place is a factory possible. I experienced tons.
When one stops to 0, they were rounded up, is their cocoon, their soil. 1 is already a choice, a cleaver in his hand blind.
Knowing that in a little uproar that identifies a sudden thought, that's what I wanted to convey. So I put words in the art to create a trampoline to the intangible.
The discovery of the depletion potential in Deleuze breaks boundaries, illuminates their futility ... my thinking has turned around.
Laetitia Bischoff
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