Damn. Today red meat in the upper feels hollow. Wish I could peel the sludge back and zap it back into motion. Mondays, restarts. Context shifting, babies go their ways and we dive in. Clicky clackity. It’s all so important. Just when I get tired, you reach out. You spark me. Not hollow because of lack of purpose, or gratitude. Just dead weight of the old skinning forth for new. Now, to see you soon my love.