and somehow i ended up here. i had followed the trees just like i wasn't supposed to, in my head, anyway. there are a few bushes, a muddy water and a black water. the last one needs special mentioning, but that is for later and now is for now. 

she asked me if i remembered the old numbers and if i could still count and i said "those numbers don't mean shit to me anymore, i am tired of being bound to my own chaos. and no, i can't count anymore, but i guess that was what i wanted".

and counting was never my bottle of gin but somehow i found my brand and it is boring and easy and sugar-coated. 

i need to get out of this bed. 

the paradox is not in the wilderness and it is most definitely not in the obvious. i miss my angry self, even though i am home.

pic/ole