My talent.

There was an air of funk in the city yesterday not aided by the dark storm clouds what came in and scalped us all. The air felt heavy and it was difficult to move quickly without hurting your fingers. The synapses responded slowly and there was swelling of the brain tissue, but nothing that a good squeeze as of a sponge didn't take care of.

And that's all I have for this Sunday. There're reasons for this of course but best not talk about them, much better to cast them into the depths of oblivion which is where we will all eventually end up.

We are not privy to the future, and good thing too, else we might be ruin it by modifying something now to effect something in the future, and by doing so change it. Overall, as much as I would like a little hint every now and again, maybe even a little glimpse, it's best if I can just adapt to what comes. After all, it's what happens that matters, not the reasons behind it.

Lift. Up-draft. Helium. Steam. Saplings.

Now for that damn good thing.