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Every day, the coffee grinder, the cup, the dogs at my ankles asking for treats, but what

about the ritual's meaning? Today like everyday, something is up while something else stands at a distance, I who am neither a place nor a thing wonder what makes the world come to being. It is not escaping grasp or glance there is nothing it rejects or approves yet seems to be ready for anything to jump, to scream, to cry, or to listen, as I write about it as it becomes at once unique, different, similar meaning as much to me as possible.