Douglas Adams Continuum (DAC)

In the park
We sat on the bench in the park

There were other people there, of course,

We didn’t see them.

The tree on the edge of the slope, an elm,

Whispered something about ‘existence’ -

We didn’t care.

The child in the blue pram, quite new,

Started crying, probably missing its mother.

We heard but couldn’t care less

Our minds were elsewhere

Traveling universes

Of light

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Ophelia was a preference, not humanly accessible, not as such.