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The world moves like a slow, grinding wheel, indifferent to wreckage, to blood on the pavement, to the things that break and bend and do not quite fit back the same. There’s no poetry in it, no grand metaphor—just a car, a man, and the unfortunate physics of collision. One moment, motion, then a deafening halt, then the body remembering it is fragile. A shoulder out of place, a knee twisted wrong. A delay, a detour, a forced reckoning with the weight of time.

I haven’t been online. Not because I’ve forgotten, not because there’s nothing to say, but because priorities shift when the body demands its due. There are bones to mend, tasks left undone, a viva approaching like a slow-moving beast that doesn’t care for excuses. Another doctorate to submit, deadlines whispering threats. The world doesn’t wait. The work piles up, indifferent.

I owe people words, responses, thoughts—but right now, catching up is the only rhythm I can keep. Social media is a distant hum beneath the more pressing matters of function and obligation. I’ll be back soon. The words will come. But for now, I dig myself out of this delay, limb by limb, day by day.

The body has its own clock, indifferent to impatience. It heals in increments, in the quiet labor of tissue knitting itself back together, in the stiffness that gives way to movement, in the ache that no longer dictates the day. The knee steadies, the shoulder holds, and what was once a slow, careful crawl forward is now something closer to a stride. The worst of it is over. What remains is endurance.

But time lost is never just lost—it accumulates elsewhere, in the work left waiting, in the obligations that didn’t vanish just because I couldn’t meet them. There is no clean return, no simple catching up, only the slow and steady reclaiming of ground. The weight of it is there, but so is the motion. One thing at a time, until everything that was set aside is pulled back into place.

It won’t be long now. The work gets done, the days unfold, and soon enough, I’ll be back.

CSW
Feb 12, 2025
https://metanet-icu.slack.com/archives/C5131HKFX/p1739362272612749?thread_ts=1739362272.612749&cid=C5131HKFX

https://www.group-telegram.com/us/CSW_Slack.com/6794



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The world moves like a slow, grinding wheel, indifferent to wreckage, to blood on the pavement, to the things that break and bend and do not quite fit back the same. There’s no poetry in it, no grand metaphor—just a car, a man, and the unfortunate physics of collision. One moment, motion, then a deafening halt, then the body remembering it is fragile. A shoulder out of place, a knee twisted wrong. A delay, a detour, a forced reckoning with the weight of time.

I haven’t been online. Not because I’ve forgotten, not because there’s nothing to say, but because priorities shift when the body demands its due. There are bones to mend, tasks left undone, a viva approaching like a slow-moving beast that doesn’t care for excuses. Another doctorate to submit, deadlines whispering threats. The world doesn’t wait. The work piles up, indifferent.

I owe people words, responses, thoughts—but right now, catching up is the only rhythm I can keep. Social media is a distant hum beneath the more pressing matters of function and obligation. I’ll be back soon. The words will come. But for now, I dig myself out of this delay, limb by limb, day by day.

The body has its own clock, indifferent to impatience. It heals in increments, in the quiet labor of tissue knitting itself back together, in the stiffness that gives way to movement, in the ache that no longer dictates the day. The knee steadies, the shoulder holds, and what was once a slow, careful crawl forward is now something closer to a stride. The worst of it is over. What remains is endurance.

But time lost is never just lost—it accumulates elsewhere, in the work left waiting, in the obligations that didn’t vanish just because I couldn’t meet them. There is no clean return, no simple catching up, only the slow and steady reclaiming of ground. The weight of it is there, but so is the motion. One thing at a time, until everything that was set aside is pulled back into place.

It won’t be long now. The work gets done, the days unfold, and soon enough, I’ll be back.

CSW
Feb 12, 2025
https://metanet-icu.slack.com/archives/C5131HKFX/p1739362272612749?thread_ts=1739362272.612749&cid=C5131HKFX

https://www.group-telegram.com/us/CSW_Slack.com/6794

BY CSW - Slack Channel


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In the United States, Telegram's lower public profile has helped it mostly avoid high level scrutiny from Congress, but it has not gone unnoticed. For example, WhatsApp restricted the number of times a user could forward something, and developed automated systems that detect and flag objectionable content. "We're seeing really dramatic moves, and it's all really tied to Ukraine right now, and in a secondary way, in terms of interest rates," Octavio Marenzi, CEO of Opimas, told Yahoo Finance Live on Thursday. "This war in Ukraine is going to give the Fed the ammunition, the cover that it needs, to not raise interest rates too quickly. And I think Jay Powell is a very tepid sort of inflation fighter and he's not going to do as much as he needs to do to get that under control. And this seems like an excuse to kick the can further down the road still and not do too much too soon." For tech stocks, “the main thing is yields,” Essaye said. The Security Service of Ukraine said in a tweet that it was able to effectively target Russian convoys near Kyiv because of messages sent to an official Telegram bot account called "STOP Russian War."
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