I thought I was her daddy, but she had five more

Perhaps not with open arms, but I welcome all the same. Should the void accept my invitation, perhaps these words will fill it. Ah, but therein lies the tragedy — a void by definition can never be filled, lest it lose its meaning.

Nevertheless, today I bathe in rediscovery, and immerse myself in the forgotten sectors of disks that have not spun for years. Readable though the data may be, corruption plagues the lot of it... and now, as if bursting forth from Pandora's box full of piss and vinegar, perversion has spread to even the purity of this partition.

There are loose strings blowing in the breeze now, the lunatic fringes of abused aspirations and disabused notions. I have taken back up our thread as it dangles perilously across the chasm that separates us, tapping the line that once bound us, and sending information through once again. I may not know to what end, but it beats lying in a perpetually unmade bed, with dirty sheets that will never be clean again.

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