Every so often, the illusion of falling into an abyss is more persuasive than a displaced pendulum.

Fight-or-flight-or-fuckulatory_compliance.

Seeing oscillations, bending space and time. 

If you walk on the same path many more times and more, a secret garden starts to bloom. By day, roses and lilies are pairing, and efflorescence of stranger kinds. By night, a waxing and waning forest, Jekyll and Hyde.

When you no longer see the difference between a saint and a murderer, come talk to me. 

I was born poor and without religion, under a happy sky, feeling harmony, not hostility, in nature. I began not by feeling torn, but in plenitude.

- Albert Camus 

Membrane of memory becoming witz again.

At times, your over-excitement at re-discovering puts a distance between reaching it.

At the silvery round table, the warrior is in a drunken stupor, the maiden getting angry for the lack of attention, the priest too busy with the written words, the prince is yet to find his wits, the lost king... and the old reaper.