this changes nothing. this changes everything. slipping between the cracks in detail, and resting in the metamorphosis between understanding and analysis. I know what these symbols mean, do you? my communication is plentiful, is thought out, is carefully mapped and revealed slowly, like pealing bark off of dying trees. we can cook it and make a tea of what was one the most meaningful sentence in my vocabulary.
but again there are life cycles. time is a series of circles placed one on top of the other. it’s useless to ask how we got here again. I got here again. I’m mapping a way out. the way out, of course, is a circle and I wish I weren’t so infinite.
