Her chin is in her hands, her head is in her hands. Here is a river see, and the armies on both sides of it, fighting each other. Time to sort this out, one at a time.

A river, and a forest, and a bunch of armies of hunting things and hunted things. A woman, two women, and a flock of forgotten children. A maiden, a mother, a crone. A bunch of things left forgotten, at least two cities, a library and a librarian, and all the months of the year. A great and huge and yawning mouth, huge tailed beasts floundering about in the sea, and not enough, not enough. Gasping in lieu of... something. The hole in the chest. What red-ness is not there.

And it is still the same story, isn't it? Still the hole, still the aching, still steeling yourself against the teflon walls, you and your reflection each canceling the other out. Round and around we go.

Worms. Worms and a fat white and bloated thing. Something else you have forgotten.

A well, we'll see. Forward from a swamp you haven't sorted yet.

Heh, gaily forward. I haven't remembered yet...

...but I will soon.

<<agé chose>>

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