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..¤..¤.¤.¤ ¤..¤¤¤¤¤.¤
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.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ now, usually i feel good (maybe?), but ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ this time of confusion also leads to ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ all analyzes ending in "useless" - i ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ was being bothered by something in a ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ song or movie or book, so i think, how ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ would i have done it, what is the ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ purpose of this process, what does it ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ consist of...? and through the process ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ more and more pieces falls off until ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ i'm standing there with nothing. ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ reductionist hell - ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ i wan't a bottom floor, a concept ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ bedrock, but the deeper i go the more ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ abstract they are, the things, until ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ they cease to be things at all ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ are we just stacked triangles? there is ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ nothing i can do with triangles. they ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ can not shelter me in any meaningful ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ sense. ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ and when i can't even anchor myself, ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ when i am nothing but the question, it ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ feels like it can all slip through my ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ fingers... "whoops", and nothing ever ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ was after that. ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
.¤¤.¤¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤.¤¤.¤
..¤..¤.¤.¤ ¤.¤.¤..¤.¤
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