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