You have these moments where you are waiting for a conception. Your mind is expanding, your temper rises and your bones practically walk till the river’s end to get sucked some of the endless life splurging through. You just want to explode and move way beyond and into an exhilarated space. But all you think of is you stuck walking through a landscape, an open field. You are running aimlessly until you finally get hit by a wall and you realize -“Fuck this!” Everything we do is as good as anything anyone else has done or ever will do till the end of us all! Because this is all you feel. The closest you’ll get to anything remotely ecstatic! This is life, and all you do from now on is move and enter the world as it is and write your heart out or scratch your skull into the bones back again. Or, you just forgot about everything and just pass with the times. It’s all never up to you, but it reads all you.