:: artifice ::
it took something more than two hours just to get here, it will take an entire lifetime to get over the feeling of misplacement.__perhaps i have always felt that way, i can't seem to remember the first time i realized there was nothing to keep me here, no, there's really nothing here.__why would i stay? why am i staying?__i don't want to think about it as i do when facing a burden, is it not a burden? an imposition, but one i can refrain from suffering... can i? can anybody? should anybody?__it all gets terribly complicated when the subject matter of discussion are the absent's interests, it seems we cannot help making decisions we have no right to make, it seems we can do no other thing than presume we grasp the meaning and inner workings of that foreign universe.__i would do everything and anything for a glimpse of the truth behind it all, but there is no such thing, i know it, it's all just chaotic and erratic and misleading regularities, happenings i mistake for facts, for steps in a causal regression, for causes and effects serving a greater purpose.__that may all be nonsense, the possibility of it being such used not to trouble me, but now, aside the comfortable efficiency of its explicative value, i know it helps less than it damages.__i wish not to think of her as the artifice of my doom.
coming in through my ears::Everybody's StepElla Fitzgerald