the more you're shattered,
reduced to dust,
the more is possible
when you put the whole thing
back together again.
peices have possibilities,
but dust is infinite.
at the end I always laugh,
when the last bits come settling down,
and I have the chance to look around.
from here is a girl,
a trip,
some trees,
backdrops and buildings,
empty,
full,
open,
closed.
dark.
darker.
what comes next.
the puzzle,
the path,
lost at sea
without a map.
some think it's a problem.
I thought it was the point...