I'm still trying to recover, and let me tell you this has messed up my brain perceptions. Like I am swimming through drunken prisms. Depth and balance are off. I want to write a million things, and yet I don't. So, I'll not write yet. I just want to do an amendment to my last post. So many posts flying past me like abandoning children. And I grasp and I grasp and all I am is the hopeful dust of Pompeii. Wouldn't that be nifty if you could buy hope in a powdered form and add water and it's suddenly tasty and powerful. What if we got to heaven and there was nothing there but dusty old mummies? It must... it must... It must be a bust to be just, suddenly dust.
