Twice in the last two months I've ventured northward to where the wood is red, and the winsome insights plentiful. In a feigned attempt at concision, I've posted these two distinct journeys together, as though to graft them in our memories, and save space for more. Grey magic you say? Should we find the very details that make memory such sweet diversion errant or missing, I'll repent, but... what is done is done. My surrogate intermagination melted them together. Esther meet Andrew.
New Age Jughead's Innervision Reads: "However we are we're okay."
Andrew the cosmic referee reflects ernestly on the quiet spaces between and the hollow pressure calloused fingertips create.
The sky and ocean in butter-colored union.