It’s a wonderful little world we live in, thrown around like rag-dolls in a heady mix of stuff, a thick soup of technology and religion and faith and politics and culture and tradition and the subconscious, all trapped in eddies of anatomy and bounded by pain and pleasure, and incessant consumption, bumping into one thing or another from wall to door to broken blue chair, all in the hopes of finding you, and at the same time, in the fear of avoiding you so that they, we, could get it off in some dark little hole, pretending to hide, and knowing you see it all!
What a confused pathetic little lot of mess this is, and yet, from this cesspool, from this sorry blob of life, we get a little spec of light.
God is a jeweler I think, and he wants to make a beautiful necklace of light for his love… Horrid little games he plays. And then she sends me this, she just manages to nail the damn coffin shut, and sends me this: TXT L8R
-Little Rotten Mouse