As old men in our mid-twenties, let's be rebellious, let's stay up past ten, let's put down the good ol' book we can't get away from, and denounce sleepy eyes. We'll give it up to reading outside the lines of our circumpolar stars, page-fold the space in-between and hold it out 'til dawn. Don't breathe here! Just wait... for the august of another sunrise.
Premiering last night on the under side of closed eyelids: All senses turning omnidirectional, running parallel to waking minds. Did it say the time is coming? Did it say you've reached familiar ground?
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