Regal sacraments frame Spanish mountains within the memory of a Chevy Cheyenne frame. Riddles wrapped in enigmas, his plainly spoken game. Ferris’ tower looks down upon two letters, one from the man, and one from her. I stare at this screen, unprotected from the memory that is a blur. What tests are we intended to pass? What tests are we supposed to fail? The how and why are worth more than the grade, and yet we’re both supposed to sail. Lost touch. Distant mind. Cunning thought that is running blind. Dipping the grilled muenster on sourdough into the tomato bisque seeking a lesser comfort than the removal of doubt, while sipping sweet tea to complete me in less than an hour though, I’ve no idea what it is all about. I have it clear upstairs, but the basement is flooded beneath, and no one but me seems to care that dreams have been replaced by grinding teeth. Twist this story to fit your bent, and you may sell papers but haven’t yet. Be a storyteller through and true, and people will gather to hear your voice by choice. The light and warmth of the flame and the words, will shake the heavens of their cynics, and the branches of their birds. Can I bring anything but myself the boy asks, wishing he could be the man. He wants to be heard, and for someone to understand. Authenticity in Gotham City, and true value, minus the hardware, online. Distance prevails over internet stales, and this one chance has gone fine. Breathe during self imposed deadlines, and smile when it’s not your fault. The old gold is held in the vault, but the key is in the pecan chocolate malt. Read the satisfaction surveys, and look on the horizon for the match. We come together now and zen, to talk in a mellow patch. Begin to release the end plan. Right now. Release it and look ahead. She chose him, while he chose her, and they’re both better off going to bed.