Obsolescence

Here is a lovely piece of my own space far from all other forces. There is no networking here, no one stalking a fake image of someone they think they will find. It is just me, just my past here. It is far back enough that it is obsolete. Colors, words, phrases, lyrics, sounds, smells, sights, laughs, feels, are obsolescent. I need obsoletion. A place where things don't really matter. People don't see. And time is your own. Words are your own. This is my corner, come and go as you wish, but don't stop for long or you'll fall into obsoletion.