At the intersection of a vague bravado and worried unformedness, I turn on the radio to hear sparkles of joy and humour, and a useful skepticism. On the road ahead of me, I see a sign labelled βDetermination begins here.β I take the exit.
What am I to do without a harshly scrutinizing figurine on my shelf? Accept something that accepts me? And only loving critiques and informs me instead of violently projecting vitriolic love/hate attacks towards me? Oh no! I have lost everything.
But I have found, and am finding various other things. And on that exit, is more signs. And more sentences that begin with connectives. And so on.