The refuge of minutia
Lacking in substance, they seek refuge in minutia. You know the type. They excel at picking fly shit from the pepper. They pull out their micrometer to measure the Grand Canyon's yawn. They find a million variations of agreement. They pick through the obvious meaning to find confusion. Theirs is a world of endless revision, of equivocation, of satisfying meaningless adjustments. They are the sea lawyers, the bureaucrats and the planners.
The world moves on.
The world moves on.
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