Every year it is the same, though it's not so true this one as last, and before that: The way the cold freezes out my brilliance, and I forget what it is like to think. like moving on past clear into some impenetrable mire of thick and stupid, falling and failing and flail, flail, flail.

Lately, there's been a good many minds within mine, all equally if not more bloody brilliant than my new one. It's daunting, but we make and do.

Sometimes all it takes is a bite of Turkish Delight.

<<agé chose>>

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