#&&†;~-,,, ,,,-~;†&&#
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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. ,-~;†&&###
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#&&†;~-,,, 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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#&&†;~-,,, ,,,-~;†&&#
&&†;~-,,,, ,,,,-~;†&&
#&&†;~-,,, ,,,-~;†&&#
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