Three-hundred days of incubation.Words were spoken, with no translation.Mental experimentation.Nights of manifestations.Sanity kept with journal notations.The world is silent, with no explanation.
These days of isolation have exposed my critical flaws. I spent time reflecting, seeking to understand who I am—my state of being still undefined. I wish that I took the time earlier in life to define myself. If I hadn’t accepted lousy advice, then maybe my path would have led to utopia. I don’t know…
Broken days causing the loss of time—our money gone along with our peace of mind. We will sell our souls to go outside.