2007 January:

How devastatingly easy it is to get lost, to not just let go and be. How fickle and devious the ego can be, one minute here we are everything is fine, then with barely a noticeable arrival we are a thousand miles away in a barren and chimerical place. How much simpler and more peaceful it is upon letting go. No needs, no worries, what will be will just be, it is of no concern to me if there is no me to stop me.

Feeling discombobulated, wet tangents feeling serrated, soon to cease. As if awaking from a semi-identical dream the third time over, the fog is only vaguely apparent and lessening with each apparent passing moment. Sand still clogs eyelids quarter encased. Here we are, we might as well play.