Oh young heart what are you dreaming of.
Despite that, at night I almost kiss the winner of the snooker UK championship (yep no doubt I watched far too much Snooker lately – ah see what sport does to me!?) in dreams after 2:16 (give or take two minutes for the loo) I wander lonely through a ghost town… as a girl with a dog.
Indeed a busy night which was why in the morning I could not move my right arm anymore.
Exactly an hour and 55 minutes later I wonder if it was my ego which saved me gracefully from being a schizophrenic. Does it matter at all what the voices are or only what they say!
This coincides with the curious adventures of ego-consciousness (that somewhere popped up on wikipedia with a link to an empty space). Now don’t tell me ego-consciousness will take you into the void.
I demand to know the meaning of this!
I also have the right to enslavement.