Memories 1, 2, 3…

*Marlboro lights – You remind me of Mary. I miss her dearly. She was a great friend, a confidant, a shining light in my life during a time I needed some light. Taken too soon from us, you will be missed.

*Kids on bikes – I am reminded of when I was younger and still living in Jackson Mississippi. I had a small dirt bike, a hand me down from my brother, and all my friends had nice new “multiple speed” bikes that were just coming out. Needless to say I lost every race. I recall often times throwing my bike into a dirt ditch in frustration.

*Dirt ditches – Anytime I see a street or neighborhood without a sidewalk I am reminded of Jackson, MS. Many of the neighborhoods in Jackson don’t have sidewalks and I get a familiar tingle when I see the same thing in other cities. Ever felt like you were walking down a memory?

*Throwing Stars and nunchucks – I get a vivid memory when I think or see these words. It reminds me of Knoxville, TN. My Asian friends (and the token white dude) were in the parking lot of one of the dorms on campus hanging out. My Filipino friend decided to show us his nunchuck skills. I will say here that he was pretty good. To this day I do not recall any glances of fear or alarm from those passing by, but someone obviously called the cops. A cop car screeched into the parking lot and two white sheriffs stepped out with guns drawn. “Get your hands up and drop the weapon!” We looked at each other in confusion, but of course complied. After making sure we were not a threat, we were left with one last memorable statement. “You boys don’t have any throwing stars or knives do you?” Nice…

*Captain Morgan – Cigarette thrown, angry Korean, guy gets a bloody nose, more rum.

*Wendy’s after midnight – Knoxville, TN we pulled up and ordered almost everything on the menu. As we got to the window we decided it was an appropriate time to spark up. The lady at the window looks over her shoulder for her manager and then says “give me a hit and the food is free.” Win!

*Seattle Washington and stupid buses – So I arrived in Seattle in the summer of the 2000 for the motherland tour to Korea which I write about in my adoption story. I arrived a day earlier so the other people going on the trip were not yet there. One girl was and she invited me to go downtown to the mall to meet some of her friends she had not seen in some time since she was not from Seattle. I agreed and we saw a bit of Seattle and I quickly fell in love with the city. When it was time to go she decided to hang around and I told her I was fine getting a bus back to the airport hotel we were staying at. The problem was that at the age of 18 I had never actually ridden a city bus before. I figured it would be as simple as walking to the opposite side of the street and getting a bus going the opposite direction. How was I to know, I was from Memphis, TN where you don’t ride a bus unless you have to… ever. Needless to say I did not get to my destination and I was forced to ask a police officer, like the orphan that I was, how to get to the airport. Embarrassment

*Scottsdale, AZ – One of the few memories I have of my father and I spending time together. I don’t begrudge him, he  is my role model when it comes to providing for a family. He was always busy, but as a chief physician and a teacher at medical schools that shouldn’t be unexpected. It is to a kid though. Scottsdale was beautiful and my father was giving a talk at a place called the Phoenician, which was a Ritz. It was my first Ritz… I will remember forever the mother of pearl swimming pool there. Amazing

*San Antonio, TX – Basic training. Getting a post card 3 weeks in from my family on an Alaskan family reunion cruise. Miserable

*Cracker Barrel – This place is really white and even though I am with white parents I never belonged there. One of the few restaurants I have ever felt that way. I don’t go there anymore.

*The 3 – My two friends and I as kids were the 3 forwards on our soccer team and we kicked some 10 year old ass back in the day. Those fools never knew what hit them…

*The Year Off – My transition from junior high to High School was funny because the inner city schools in Memphis, TN have never had strong soccer teams. When my friends and I entered into the “system” many city soccer coaches took notice because there was literally a “team” of us in the same 2 grades. I remember as we were getting ready to enter High School that I met my future coach, a real pompous braggart that was one of those soccer coaches that dresses as if he is a player too… give it up. He would even try to show us techniques, which was amusing considering most of us played competitive soccer since the school soccer was really just amusing to us. That was the year I “took a year off from soccer” to play golf. The High School coach was not pleased, he wanted us all on his new “super team.” Tough shit Sherlock, I don’t regret it to this day asshole.

*Pre-AP English – “You won’t ever be a good writer. Many people aren’t great at writing, try something new.” So motivating…

*AP English – “Mom I got a 4 on the AP English exam! Can I go shove it in Mrs. ___ #@$%#@%@#$ face?”

*12th grade Art class – My first in school fight that I got caught for. In my defense… it was self-defense. Memorable line from the Principle “we punish all offenders equally here!” My mother “well that is the stupidest shit I have ever heard!” Love…

*2008 – You are released from service Airman. “OMG… OMG”

*The King and I – I was one of the Emperor’s children in a traveling Broadway production of The King and I in Memphis, TN. That was one of the greatest memories of my childhood.

*Boy Choir – I miss my voice. I was a soprano till I was 16 years old. I got made fun of, but I didn’t care. Now I sound like a mortician.

*HarsH ReaLiTy – “This online journal should be a fun and relaxing way of writing a diary…”

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Start, Stop, Pause, Repeat – Death

They say that you are more likely to get in an auto accident within ten minutes of your home due to complacency. The most dangerous place in America is the four-way stop. It is the only time you can observe utter confusion in every direction. The idea is fascinating, almost like a pinwheel of chance.

To the left we have Nancy who is an elderly woman on her way to a tea date. She is still on chapter one of the “how to drive manual” because she was basically given her licence by the “interested” instructor oh so many years ago. She normally just turns right.

You have straight ahead Tom who is hopped up on meth he just scored. He is on chapter 5,219 which is centered on aggressive driving. It was a chapter never meant to be written and somehow was missed in editing. Tom loves this chapter and always thinks it is his turn.

And on our right is Mary a mother of four with three children in the backseat. Two are arguing and one is asleep in a car seat facing the rear. Mary is trying to listen to her daily show on the radio. Mary has a good “idea” of when her turn is, but she sometimes just lets everyone go first because she is such a kind hearted woman.

The fourth car is a man on a bicycle but oddly he is in the center of the lane as if he is a car. This confuses two of the three drivers, Tom really doesn’t give a shit about the guy in tights.

God above calls the others around the viewing pool. Bets are placed and harps are silenced. The wheel of chance is spun and a breath is stilled. Which one.


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10 Things Not to Say to an Asian

  1. Do your parents speak English? No, they kind of wave their arms around and point at things while grunting.
  2. So do you like eat rice every day? So do you like eat fat every day?
  3. When did you come to this country? How do you know I wasn’t born here?
  4. Do you eat Asian food? While assuming we eat every type of Asian food you can think of IS annoying… also asking us obvious questions such as this one is pretty lame as well.
  5. Is that your dad? (points at random Asian man) No, is that your dad? (points at the first person he sees… man or woman.)
  6. Do you celebrate Chinese New Year’s? Do I look Chinese? Wait… don’t answer that. I SAID DON’T ANSWER THAT!
  7. Could you suggest a good Asian restaurant to go to? Sure, try The Drunken Chinese Chopstick Eating Dragon Wonton. I hear it is excellent!
  8. Go back to your country! If I did that who would do your math homework?
  9. What is the easiest Asian language to take for college credit… I just want to pass! Chinese is so easy and takes little effort. Go and be a star!
  10. Can you show me real quick how to use these chopsticks? How about I show you how to use a fork instead… deal?

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The Daily Opinion – Why do you Blog?

Why do you blog?

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I forgot the photo

I forgot to add the photo image for the last post. Here is my reference image showing my bell curb for HarsH ReaLiTy. You can note the start of the website in January of 2013 and the progression to this day. -OMCapture

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Random Thoughts

Writing, at least lately, has become a habit of typing my thoughts. While this is not in reality a “bad” thing, for it provides entertainment and moments of thought (hopefully) for my readers… still sometimes I catch myself pondering “the thought.” Is it all a bunch of fluff?

A reader once accused me of changing my style and another said I had turned into an “audience writer.” Ouch. But in truth perhaps that is not far from what has happened since to be honest this blog is more than my hobby. If you are curious how I am on it so much… I replaced a lot of my “leisure time” with this blog. Why? If you have to ask that please just walk out now and choose the door on the right. I promise it isn’t a trapdoor…

I have replaced a lot of things with this blog because I also still work 40 hours a week at a real job I have to clock into and I have a family that needs me. I am sure this is the same story many other “writers” can share. How nice would it be to not have to clock in to another person’s company? I don’t have the answer. If you are looking for “get rich schemes” or “eBooks on making money from home” you came to the WRONG website. I don’t have anything for you.

Currently I make about $45 a month off HarsH ReaLiTy. The amusing part is, I am making EQUAL on my new website. But I pushed it to 5,000 subscribers in a little less than 3 months. The lack of offensive title and tagline actually helps… imagine that. I kept my same screen name, which actually hasn’t helped and has in reality hurt my traffic. I just felt like sharing that info because… why not?

You can make a lot of money off writing books and eBooks. My blogging and self-promotion tips aren’t bullshit, I hope that is obvious by now. The problem for me is I am currently not selling a product. I no longer sell the two short eBooks I did and I am basically… well that is the issue. I am writing my thoughts. When that stops it will mean I found something worthwhile to do. I hope that occurs soon.



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My Writing “Process”

Everyone else is writing “how to” articles so I decided I would write one as well. This is my “how to” process on writing blogs. Hopefully you find some helpful information here.

I begin by putting on a plastic crown that I keep next to my desk. This is to remind me that I am a king and that everything I say is really freaking important. Thus, it should be written.

Next I generally light some candles to set the mood. Only the candles aren’t bright enough and the computer screen really begins to hurt my eyes because of the contrast in natural and unnatural light. This begins to actually alter my mood and force a struggle between my natural and unnatural writing voice. This shit is just crazy.

I normally like to start off with a fun sentence to “get the mood” going. Many people use small posts or quick brain storming exercises to “get the juices flowing.” I will focus in on an emotion such as “God, this burger is really disgusting. Why did I pay seven dollars for this shit? I might be sick.” After a few sentences like that I am REALLY in the mood. A little Keith Sweat and we are ready to rock and roll! Wait… we were talking about writing…

Animals really help writers sometimes to relax and to get over a “hump” if they are struggling with a portion of their story. Fluffy, my pet Liger, is always there for me. Purr Fluffy… purr…

Finally there is the editing part of my writing, or lack thereof. This part of my writing process is the most complex so I will try to be as specific as I can. I had a custom 8 ball created, you know the one that you shake and ask a question to, but instead I had the ball modified to tell me if a sentence is a run on or not and I can safely say the ball has yet to be wrong because I see no run on sentences in this entire post so that is really a good thing and I am really glad I bought this awesome ball!


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The Sociopath

Journal Entry 48

TS: 11:21:13

… and I will never change. I see the world through tint. The different colors of my shades present the many facets of my personality. What mood am I in today?

The doorman calls me “Mr. Banks” as I leave the building. He is a Category D and would never make the collection. Still… what would it be like to play along his ribcage with my knife? One can wonder… I roll the idea around my tongue.

I stroll amongst them, a shining example no one notices. But they will notice me one day. All shapes, sizes, ages, nationalities, I see them all and shudder trimmers of desire.

Not just any can make the cut. An audition worthy of Broadway is held each day as I allow my sensations to take over and visualize the moment with each. Not a Category B today, no I will indulge myself and will not settle for second class meat.

The decision has been made and my hands start to sweat with the sheer joy of anticipation. There is no stopping me from having what I want… what I need. It will be quiet in the night once more… soon once again.

Mr. Banks

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Midnight Poet

The words look different under the light of the moon. Perhaps it is the lack of light that prevents the pages from shining haunting images of inadequacy. It matters not that the same scene is now portrayed by glowing screens and vibrating things. What now pulls at strings of obligation that carry me like a puppet through life? It does not take a smart man to have an opinion about everything, but perhaps some intelligence is necessary to articulate a thought. Lack of vocabulary should never silence a voice, for a simple phrase can provide a person freedom. Take heart in that simplicity.



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The Meeting – HarsH ReaLiTy

Confidential – Boardroom Transcription

February 5th, 2014

Denver, Colorado

Location: Top floor – Tower of Evil

Confused: “What the hell happened? We said we were going to write on both blogs, but now we are only writing on the new one. Did I miss a memo again? I always miss memos… where do we get memos anyway?”

Annoyed: “Oh my God someone shoot me. Not even one minute into this meeting and I would rather be having a colonoscopy. Hey Embarrassed remember when we had that colonoscopy a couple years back and we rolled over and it was two hot nurses? You should have seen your face!”

Embarrassed: “I would rather we be paying attention more to the poetry lately. Who the hell is writing this crap?”

Strategist: “You know if you guys would lean more towards our Asian side we would get things done faster. I swear I think a few of you snuck onboard this ship. Anyways, we are letting the Guest Authors write on HarsH ReaLiTy while we write on A Good Blog is Hard to Find. By the way Thoughtful, that blog title was a good idea. We have gotten great feedback from people on it!”

Thoughtful: “Thanks… I was just thinking how nice these meetings were without Drunk here. Oh well, we can only wish for next time.”

Drunk: “Someone said something about scotch and ladies. Hey Thoughtful I heard that asshole, screw you. Everyone needs a drunk thought once in a while. It isn’t my thought Mr. Action over there is known to also drunk dial.”

Mr. Action: “I would just like to ask when my name got changed to Mr. Action? I prefer Jason or Master.”

Sarcastic: “There he goes again… Mr. Rockstar… Mr. Spotlight…”

Jason: “Zip it Sarcastic. As Strategist said, we keep working on the new blog and let the Guest Authors write for a little bit. What is the big deal?”

Sleepy: “Did I have to wake up for this? Am I awake…?”

Ending transcription… we think.

For previous records for HR meetings see the below link.

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Midnight Rain

Raindrops falling from above, give their souls up with a splash upon my windowpane. Selling their lives for my visual appetite, how selfish am I? And still the angels weep for joy and sorrow and cause the sparkling showers that come at inconsistent hours. For who can place consistency on the hearts of man. Not even the gods can.


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Illusions of Fantasy

Think you know imagery? Think you have read it all? Have you observed the moment the sun has fallen into the ocean? Have you truly watched as the light meets the water’s edge and droplets of aqua fire are shot spitting into air. You can observe the eerie green flash of light that comes for a second, a tale the seaman share when lonely docks are walked at night. Have you seen the illusion of fantasy?

I have not.


Note: In case you are new to following my blogs I post a lot so you may want to disable the email notification. On HarsH ReaLiTy this past year I averaged 8 posts a day for a year. I won’t be offended if you unfollow. I don’t sleep much. I hate to dream.




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All that was given to me…


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When Anger Comes

You can tell when I am angry. I start talking to myself on Twitter and I keep posting even if no one reads it… Because when I am angry I could give a shit less about any of you. Actually screw the world when I am in my current mood. The only thing that irritates me more is the fact that I can’t actually debate/rant AT the people who pissed me off initially. Being an “honorable blogger” sucks most days… at least you all get to read my pointless posts.


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I love it

Bring your anger and your conviction. Pile it high and set it on fire as you dance in ritual homage to your beliefs. Look up fool and take note of the bonfires around you. Your candle of reverence is joined by a billion other lights and the most amusing part is that no one else gives a damn about your flame but you.

Shout in my face and cause your veins to bulge. Portray for me your feelings in aggressive fashion and inspire me to respond in turn.

You have passion? I can match it.

You have facts? I have my own.

You feel your cause is just? I in turn feel you are wrong.


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The Act of Self-Promotion

Look I get it; people have a hard time putting themselves out there. They want to be successful, they want to sell their books, but they don’t want to come across as a pushy salesman. Not everyone can pitch a product to an audience, it isn’t rocket science but to many people it might as well be. I do not write SEO based articles or teach blogging classes, but there seems to be a disconnect between what people want and how they go about getting it that needs to be pointed out.

Every eye on your product is a potential sell! I read a blog post once where the author stated “I haven’t been blogging much because my publisher might see what I am doing and get angry that I am not working on my revisions.” I responded back with “Why would your publisher or ANYONE get angry over you generating a potential audience?” It is that simple folks, every person that sees the title to your book, the link to your website, or any type of product promotion is adding to buyer recognition. That is THE GOAL in sales!

I am not going to teach you how to generate an audience because that isn’t the purpose of this post. I feel the need to point out the obvious today it seems. Regardless of how you do it, promotion is promotion. Whether you are running around naked with a sign or you are regularly posting updates about your book on a blog, eyes on your product is the name of the game. If you are an author and a blogger promote yourself both on your blog and through your articles. If we can’t see your product we can’t buy it!


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Walking Reflections

Walking reflections they share my past. Like simultaneous televisions, they portray the steps that lead to the next one yet to be taken. I cut the blindfold from my face with the dagger of despair and accept what I may see. Our images combine to form the true self that can never be faked. We walk past beggars that hold the keys to our salvation and instead dance behind the man in the expensive costume.

What holiday is it again?” We murmur to ourselves as we sashay through our lives with prescribed forms given to us.

Follow the cue card” The man on the blaring overhead yells bringing us back to reality. We look around in bewilderment at who orders us.

I am my own person,” you defiantly shout as shackled feet shuffle behind other shackled feet. Swiping cards to show our presence in our life has become the calling card of the industrial bound servant. We eat off plastic trays and drink processed milk from metallic cows that moo in quiet sorrow.


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The Jester

He hides his pain behind a permanent smile.

Making other people laugh, while feeling no joy.

A beautiful painting of conflicting emotion.

Suspended in ultimate devotion.

To the task of making other humans laugh.

A slave, a servant, is there really a difference?


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Winter’s Night

She holds my hand and we step into a moment of our own. Nothing else matters, you share everything regardless of what type of emotion is being ingested at that given time. I feel that way about my wife and that is probably why I married her right? Makes sense. Someone at work asked me a question the other night about marriage and I said “to me it is simple, you marry for love and for shared moments. The promise of future moments and because that person makes you happy.” If you marry the prettiest girl you can find there is an issue with that strategy. Time catches up to everything, even beauty and then what are you left with? You better hope there was some personality beneath all that makeup.


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Melting Dreams

Melting dreams they drip from above. Tumbling down filled with love. Love and hope that will never see the light. Try and try as we might.

I would not say I am an example to follow. To perhaps read in amusement upon a boring afternoon. Yes, that I can see as a good way to pass the time. But like a figment of your imagination, that dances upon the floor of your particular desire. I will most likely walk out of the halls of your memory in time, and become like the melting dreams.

-Opinionated Man

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Seaside, Florida

The date is set and already my mind travels to your shores. I smell the salt in the air and hear the waves in the distant. This small town has become our hideaway from the world. Here we forget societal obligations and instead we are “wealthy investors” for a week. It is not that we pretend to be other people… it is just that we allow ourselves to be accepted by a different life for a time. I am ok with that because it is the life I want to “retire to.” I hate saying that though because I would honestly love to live there sooner… rather than later when I am old.

I love Seaside and almost everything about it. Sure I wish there was a little more racial variety, but I also feel like it is a really safe area and the people are “Southern Friendly.” My family has been vacationing there forever and we normally rent one of the numerous beach houses in the area. People don’t realize what a great deal it is to rent a beach house instead of paying for an overpriced hotel room. You can normally rent a two bedroom condo or home with a full kitchen for under $1000 for the week. That is a great deal especially considering your backdoor is right on the beach.

No I am not in advertising I just really love Seaside, Florida! If you see an Asian family walking around there in May… that is probably me. I wouldn’t suggest approaching them though… I sometimes pretend I don’t speak English.

We are set for our summer vacation. Expect poetry, some depressing moments, and more poetry. The ocean always makes me happy and a bit sad. A reminder of the coast I left so long ago.


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She uses her airbrush with ease. Wistfully erasing the imperfections she sees, the mistakes she knows others must observe. It is a sad kind of art that takes place here. Instead of adding to a masterpiece a portrait is created through slowly removing reality. By hiding the personal flaws that we see, just a light touch of the brush here and there, an artist is able to create an image through magic. Is it the creation or destruction of art?

If only we could remove our internal struggles so easily. This is perhaps the wistful thought that floats inside the editor’s mind as they create puppets from the human samples that have been shot for the day. A collage of humans turned into a stack of dolls because their emotions have been airbrushed away. And still the readers will browse the magazine in a week and thoughtfully wonder what these porcelain dolls are thinking, not understanding the fact that perfection does not think.


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30 Years Ago I came to America


Thirty years ago a Korean boy stepped off a plane accompanied by a translating chaperone. He was two and a half years old, he was most likely scared, and he was about to step off the plane into a very foreign white and black world. I remember a few things from my early childhood, but the one thing I really wish I could remember was the look of joy on my mother’s face when I came through the tunnel at the airport. The emotion of the moment most likely went over my head, but when I consider now what I must have went through during that period of my life I can only wish I had a sense of “hope” when I saw my adopted mother for the first time.

Hope is a good thing and no good thing ever dies” is one of my favorite lines from Shawshank Redemption. Andy says this to Red to force Red to remember that there was still joy to be found in the world outside of prison… even a prison of our minds. This is not always an easy concept to focus on for those of us enslaved to the shackles of sporadic depression. We constantly battle these demons in the night and a victory for us is IF we get those demons to sleep during the day.

After thirty years in this country I have forgotten the culture shock I felt arriving, however, I can still recall the awe I felt returning to Korea for the first time in 2000. When I stepped off that plane into a sea of Asians I was overwhelmed. It was like being in a movie. The funny part was… I needed the subtitles and I still do to this day. My three earliest memories of my childhood are French Fries, Ants, and riding bikes on streets without sidewalks in Jackson, Mississippi. I suppose those are far better memories than the tears I had returning to Pusan, SK in my teenage years.

I love America and I am very fortunate to have been adopted. I count my blessings each day and they accumulate more and more each year. It has been a good thirty years, thank you America.

-Opinionated Man

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To Kill a Unicorn

I stalked a unicorn one night and shattered her life with a stone. Her soul did not die, but I had slain her connection to this world. The earth began to weep over the loss that I am still trying to comprehend.

I close my eyes as it begins to rain. The tears of our constant audience come at unexpected moments, their outpour is brought on by the evil they must observe each day. God created the clouds to shield his eyes from the shame that we cause him.

I speak to Satan on Sundays. His whispered words of sweet reward are a constant temptation with the waking of the sun. I do not consider him a threat anymore. He has become a constant beat to the soundtrack of my life.

And the band continues to play.


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There is a hole in my pocket

There is a hole in my pocket. I dare not place anything of value within it. I wonder now what may have been already lost. Have I been giving to the world blindly and do inadvertent gifts of charity count in the light of heaven?

My pants now represent a balanced struggle. Half of what I keep will possibly be lost and the other half will hopefully be saved to be placed upon my dresser in the evening. Does survival of the daily journey make these objects more special?

No, it simply means they survived the day.


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