Ah these reflective black nights and radiant deceptively insouciant mornings immersed in the pool of self, I meander the watery line between movie-star idol
of my own ill-cast drama and ragged peon of the world - taste ash tossed by the
ghost of past, and future upon this present bundle of scattered synapses stuttering, stumbling, for the answer in the fading of the flickering stone.
