This post doubles as a Lacuna Coil reference as I cannot brain hard enough to think up a better title right now. This message has been bought to you by absentmindedness, the number 12, and absentmindedness.

Hello, one and all! (crickets)

Ahem.

Anyway, I see it's been over a month since my last post on here so I figured I'd go ahead and make one! Isn't that special? Yeah.. not so much. Let's skip forward to the more important stuff.

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I find something magical in water. The way it moves, sounds, feels, smells -- it's all glorious.

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All things fade.

Time, wind, water, ice, heat, sun -- all tear away, piece by piece, those things left behind. In this way the cycle never ends. As each fades into another the unyielding currents of decay bring life and creation into this stony waste. The fertile detritus of rotted dreams.

For each thought we have, every hope and wish we make, is sewn in the soil of the ones that have perished.

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Dust. Dust filters through all cracks. Dry silt that chokes life out of the recessed places of the world -- that leaves nothing but still air to comfort cooling bones and powder away useless sighs.

Where the divide between skin and scars becomes lost.

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So I botched something tonight. Well, a few things, actually, but for the most part they worked out.

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::You're back. How did it go.
;;As expected. The object has positioned itself beneath the conic structure and has begun to emanate.
::So collection is proceeding.
;;Correct. I estimate we will have enough for transit by fouthfall. Once the harnesses are loaded the caravan will depart.
::Let me know the moment they do. We cannot afford to let it spoil again.
;;Has there been any word from the Dusters or the Tidebearers.

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So I've been a bit lazy this week. I would love to blame it on my screwy social schedule and work stress -- but it's really that I've been mind numbingly engrossed in Minecraft TerraFirmaCraft.

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Consider, if you will, the possibility that not a single thing you experience in life is the thing itself.

We live in a world of echoes.

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Today existed. I guess I'll start with that.

Don't think I'm insinuating anything bad about today -- I'm not -- but I just wanted to note that, unlike many other days that had every ability to be similar to this one, this is the one that happened.

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This is the world of our desires.

It starts as a seed, grows to fruition, withers, and expires. Breath dries into dust and heaps of discarded dreams feed the tender buds that sprout anew. There is a cycle -- always a cycle.

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