"We swim, endlessly, in ovals beneath unseen suns, guided by the unseen puppeteers of our pastdictions."^1
A comet streaked, undefined by its history or its future, a solitary traveler in a defined place, puncturing the veil of everyday reverie.^2
"Once the abyss of memory is opened, the echoes do not cease." — The Hallowed Pages of Stagnation^3
1. Grand Wireless Musings, Vol. II: The Haphazard Orchestra, Chapter 9, Section 17^4 com^^
"Find solace in the loops that bind the swallows to their endless journeys around the rooftops of this world, unreclaimed."^5
2. Looped Witticism, 242nd Satire on a Sunday Sky, Footnote 8&10>!
Have you ever wondered why the cursor's blink seems more echoing than the silence itself? Curiously tempered intervals; a dance across the prism of thought, lending stability to its complexity=<^(r^)=;!