Orestes.

Gotta cut away, clear away, snip away and sever this umbilical residue, keeping me from killing you.
Wow.
Thank you, Karan.

Yes, the integer.

The sweat of my brow stings my eyes and failure looms large. As the hammer hits the metal, I am forced to reflect – what if I don’t get what I’m looking for? Or has it become so indefinable by the platitudes of fate that I sit beside it every evening and yet neglect its presence? Exhausted by the day’s work, I remove my greasy overalls and wash my hands in the rusty, iron basin I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. God. These laugh lines will soon wipe out any hints that I once had a mouth. I’m aging like a peanut in the sun, but I’m not complaining because I still find comfort in the presence of these lathes and toolboxes.

C'mon, A-Team.

Fuck the naysayers. Fuck criticism. Wash it away with eau-de-toilette.

This is not it. Start over. Start over.

Cultural hyperlinking.

Q. Okay, I do follow you. But, tell me this, in a land so full of psychological and cultural strife, where the odds surpass the means, and where time kills creativity and chokes morality, where do you see the world headed? Is there a Grand Plan for the world? Or will this temporality be forever erased by the Big Crunch?

A. As long as there are no methodical patterns to educational growth, the human race will survive. The moment water stops reaching the branches, and the high-heads are all for how important it is for the roots to remain turgid, we will reach an existential plateau. Where even the loftiest ministrations of our contemporary philosophers will cease to work. As for a Grand Plan or a Great Purpose, I do not think there is one intended, because when we manage to conclude with the Plan, then what? Tread on, thinking that we are alright and perfection has been achieved. That is, undoubtedly, the most wayward of thoughts.