if i'm rambling because nowadays i find myself thinking the same thoughts over and over – like clockwork that strikes at the midnights of my loneliness – but then they, my thoughts, never really materialize or transcend the barriers of my mind amidst the almost infinite space of opportunity before me, this unnerving vast reservoir of potential that surrounds me like an ocean does an island, like an ocean does a drifting plastic bag – though it may be important to add that salt water cannot be drunk, unless i find madness and thirst to be my choice of sweet self-destruction; but i, as a creature of this world, despite lacking fins or gills, know that salt water can be crossed, perhaps by a ship of my own design: wooden oars and planks, compass and sextant, my eyes on the guiding stars, my hope on the rising dawn.