On the irony that introverts are extroverted about the fact that they're introverts ...

... and other anomalies of the domestic interior.

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Never do I know if the outside world's overtaking us or if we're overtaking the world.

Are we setting the fire or containing it? Planting the seeds or being planted?

The seriousness of the questions make me laugh. 

Isn't this fun, this thing we call living?

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