A distant memory. Passing? Fading? Dying off. It is misplaced. Wrongfully? Purposely? In an effort to remember the past? Or to align the future? Is it deformed in its entirety? Or has the world that comes to pass instead deformed? Where is its heart? Where is its home? So many questions. So few answers. Only one certainty in all the confused fragmentation of history. This is me.
