I hope you keep writing and posting what falls out of that infinitely complex cranial system of yours, the waking dream musings of a tired torchbearer.
I tend to want to go microwave all of my rice bags to apply to my head after pondering the existential fodder you lay in the trough.
I have nothing clever to add, I’m too tired from it all, just know that your thoughts are appreciated.
It seems to only come out now when speaking a language I know. Still tucked between the lines though. That's where I stash the flow. Can see the rapids but can't feel them until one goes where they can't be seen. Something like that. Nothing clever to add either.
Thanks.