Since the fate of the world is predestined, don't be impressed that I'm writing to you. Kinda how all great civilizations get their hookups from some life giving body of water, so is my creative passion of the moment inspired by you, California.
Your presence brings truth to a situation. Your raw beauty shouts at the makeup queen's perfection. "Sup now?" it says.
It is night now. At the end of the hall, I see a lovely white light reflecting off your skin, and I barely notice a popular girl with a deep tan in the shadows. I charge down the hall and dive lips first into your state of being, California.
BAM! Massage oils mingle with your abundant vegetation, and before you can think about it you instinctively infer that it is morning from the sunlight glistening in your french toast. Light leaves the sun going 300 million meters per second. About 7 minutes later it meanders through your window, bounces off the maple syrup on your toast, and hits you right in the eye (This sentence was inspired by Anne Rice). Your eye tells your brain and your brain doesn't bother to tell you as this is a common occurance.
As I drive across your border I surrender to you. Sometimes we kiss. Sometimes we are separated by 2000 miles. Other times we send soundwaves into eachoter's ears through telephones that generate funny thoughts which make us laugh. Artistic passion and love consume people's thoughts, but football and weather dominate their talk. We breath in and out and the world spins around one more time.