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For days, every night when everyone is asleep I wake up and see pieces of the puzzle. Open my laptop and work on a geometric frequency. Step-by-step. Every evening slightly different, contradictory frequencies and becoming one again and repeats, just like breathing.

Connecting the last ends tonight and I felt the word: SINGULARITY

No living can be perfect. Perfection is a dead soil. Nothing grows there. Your imperfections are your treasure. Live on it! Grow on it!

Singularity; the wildest way of self love!

What do you feel when you focus on it.
Heart to Heart, Janosh

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