#,,#,##,#, ,####,#,#,
##,###,### ##,,,#####
,,##,,##,, #,#,,#,,,,
,,#,#,#,#, ####,##,,,
,,######## #,,,##,#,,
,,#,,,,,,, ,#,,#,###,
,,##,,,,,, 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. ,,#,##,,,,
##,,,#,,## #,###,#,,,
#,#,,##,#, ###,,###,,
####,#,### #,,#,#,,#,
#,,,####,, ,#,####,##
,#,,#,,,#, ,###,,,##,