You can’t solve pressure; it is just something that grows in complexity and wealth, at its own leisure. Spores of senselessness run their track like an energetic, electric greyhound. Blocks of building tension formed onto the neck, leeching the passions that drive you, setting you back for another day.  Or pressure build into our bloodstreaming, forcing impossible acts against our muscle and wit.  We stream out notions like strings and marry this with design, forming a web of intellectual property. Pressure cooks, burns, and buries, but it can also pressurize straying thoughts into diamond complexity.


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