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I used to think an honoring of another person was to turn them on like a television and stare, but at some point you forget to pay the bill. I’d rather run, I’d rather wind. I’d rather be the person in the room with feelings, decisions, and possible future street signs to read. I’d rather smell the flowers. Not to have smelled, to say I did something. But to feel something different everyday, as the flower does when it is planted, grows, buds and spreads its wings into the sky.