Shit.
Everything? Everything? How can everything possibly go right? There are wars and guns and bombs and droughts and famines and diseases. They happen all the time, to people who do not deserve them. And they change those people.
Unparalleled excreations of thought are formed as I sit, sit. Enraptured, entranced by the vernacular of society around me.
A woman in her forties licks her upper lip and smiles at whatever her lover has just said.
A man at another table leans in and touches his left shoulder with his right hand subconsciously.
Were these things zen? Or just the passing of a fucking subatomic particulate along the reverberations of a string as it jiggles in a million dimensions? Bounce and step and jump and so fourth.
Fuck destiny.
PART FOUR TOMORROW.
OR, YOU KNOW, WHENEVER THE FUCK I FEEL LIKE IT...
<<read part two
Follow
