In a place between nowhere and somewhere, letters lie about scattered across a bland and colorless landscape. They drift in a few at a time, torn off from phrases that would have been and poems that should have been. No one really knows how the letters find there way here, they just kind of do. When a great idea is not penned down, then the words become fragmented and simply fall into the ethos sphere . They come to  the unnamed place for the letters cannot form words on their own.