Minions! My frail blobs of steel.... I come to you today as my eternal disguise of appreciation. Through the eyes of all that's still we are moving and yet through my eyes, in our motion, every still has gained its own precipitating accumulative changes. The cold ice cream of the winter may not be the cold hail of the winter before or the silent walk of the winter in between, but minions; it is the same significant little cherished adventure. The ever changing streets with the million different molecules of tar that went into it and out over and over again, and the million shops that lived and died over the years still feel like the same still home that watched us grow! The people that used to belong to our conversations died and new ones came, but the conversations are the same somehow.. the clothes, the minds, the granted all changed yet feels familiar... Maybe belonging my minions does not need constants, maybe belonging is simply whatever makes sense. You belong to me like I to you... and thus you to my people like I to them.
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