The Earth never crosses it's own path. Not only is it not in
a circular orbit around the sun, it is not even in an elliptical
orbit around the sun. Everything drifts. Nothing matches the
architype perfectly. None of us is perfect. Everything is
imperfect. The imperfections create our identity. The only way I
know I exist is by my variation from the ideal. I am error. I am
alive.
Raxin · 7 years ago
1
reply
Oops. Please read, "its own path" instead.