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The Yellow Edge

An honest alarm clock is better. BEEP BEEP, or perhaps BRIINNNGGGG. Take your pick. These tones don’t lie about their motives, don’t pretend to seduce you with progressively louder expressions of dawn, or pleasant-yet-noticeable songbird recordings. Rather, they take pride in their job, interrupting sleep with the urgency of life to be lived, where things are rarely soft but often direct and harsh.   Gentle forest melodies permeate through layers of unconsciousness, soft natural tones designed to nudge the dreamer slowly and pleasantly into wakefulness. It doesn’t work of course, not when the body and mind protests so vehemently to the ingratitude of a world that requires it to rise from a well earned slumber. Even the sweetest, most natural rhythm is eventually perverted into an awful cacophony by the unwilling dreamer, creating a terrible sense of being dragged from a soft, cushioned world into a harsh, gritty reality. Honesty seems preferable. The grit in this case fo

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