And, of course, there is the obvious. There is the name in the holster. Perhaps, someone will know the who, what, where, when, why and how of it. Perhaps.
I sit alone, I sit alone
Got no sense of belonging
Getting nowhere, can't go home
Thesis: To consider what the chance intersection of ideal beauty and intellectual confusion would mean in determining the fate of Earth. Phase 1: While touring San Francisco, I stayed at the Sir Francis Drake. The bartenders were adequate. Phase 2: I began a blog. I learned romance might exist, but depends upon whether a man and a woman can tread the maze individually and reach its center at the exact same instant in time. Phase 3: The center comes and goes as if it were a mirage.