Scares of the sort, at this stage, leave nothing but more of the same and the leftover planes I could have been another case of the same, although a different structural scandal. There are fewer who knew and so I had to sift through fewer gauges, but more of the same dark, defangled: why don’t you update me, I would rather note not Hexagram 2: passive-receptive. My Page of Pentacles involves a coin shared like a godsbody In middair between tongues and equals, an honour amongst thieves I cannot buy into having been left, onely on the receiving side of error, what happens happened making any final sentencing impossible. Nor can I finish your sentences, though I can hijack them. Freights of the sort, on this stage, are no cause for. Destress! And be left with the last names, with the quiver of yarrows you’ve cast, like dry spaghetti, against every wall that you could strike through —and there’s many— prowling through the airwaves where parallels park with the lights on, each lovers’ lane a killing ground and airlock. Mouth to mouth, we keep passing the same gun. I should eat something.
Scene of the Zodiac Killer's first crime; coordinates 38°5′41.61″N 122°8′38.24″W
I know I'm being presumptuous but you know that's a rubbing to my Aladdin lamp...
The first line of H2 reads: "When there is hoarfrost underfoot, Solid ice is not far off."
Speaking of mundane things, nothing more mundane than a novel about hunting monsters (my current listening in Audiobooks while I'm driving or at the gym). The author, Larry Correia and some of his characters, sits at the antipodes of my political views, but I enjoy the action of his novels. Go figure. The thing is, that in one of novels, there is a paragraph that was seared in my brain because it pertains to H2,1. Or at least is where my aleatory mind stored it. It pertains to time and how can time be visualized:
"...[t]ime is like a tube filled with water. As time goes by, the water freezes. The past is frozen solid, unchangeable, but the future is fluid until it happens. We live at the surface of the ice, the present. The water goes on forever."
In the novel, the protagonist, by some feat of magic, was able to "melt" some of that hoarfrost (about five minutes worth of it...) and redo a few things thus changing a future that had come to pass.
Hoarfrost, before it becomes glacial, is where the action is...
I knew that quote would come handy someday.
I LOVE the opening somewhere betwing The Return and Baroque Barrens mouthfeel of cartilage in film b&w