Bob lives a palindormatic life. Every
day finished the way it started. Evening spent retracing morning's
steps. No conclusions, no revelations, no surprises, no changes.
The mighty hand of God playing Bob's
life as a yo-yo. The holy string playing out and recoiling over the
same trajectory with the same force. A divine vector bouncing off its
own existence. Never finding the illusory Nirvana of walking the dog.
Bob tries to break the routine. He
tells people to call him Robert but no one will. They know he is Bob
and nothing can change that. The cycle must go on.
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Talk to me dude