@#£$*~~,,, ,,,~~*$£#@
@#$$$*:~,, ,,~:*$$$#@
#£££$*:~,, ,,~:*$£££#
###£$*:~,, ,,~:*$£###
#@#£$*:~,, ,,~:*$£#@#
@£**:~,,,, ,,,,~:**£@
££**~,,,,, 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 ,,,,,,,~*£
##@#$*:~,, fingers... "whoops", and nothing ever ,,~:*$#@##
###£$*:~,, was after that. ,,~:*$£###
£***:~,,,, ,,,,~:***£
@@#£$*:~,, ,,~:*$£#@@
##$$::,,,, ,,,,::$$##
@@#£$*:~,, ,,~:*$£#@@
#@#£$*:~,, ,,~:*$£#@#