For some reason, you will no longer be the person you believed you once were. You'll detect slow and subtle shifts going on all around you, more importantly shifts in you. Worse, you'll realize it's always been shifting, like a shimmer of sorts, a vast shimmer, only dark like a room. But you won't understand why or how.

The thread has snapped. No sound even to mark the breaking let alone the fall. That long anticipated disintegration, when the darkest angel of all, the horror beyond all horrors, sits at last upon my chest, permanently enfolding me in its great covering wings, black as ink, veined in Bees' purple. A creature without a voice. A voice without a name. As immortal as my life. Come here at long last to summon the wind.

Who has never killed an hour?

Why did god create a dual universe? So he might say ‘Be not like me. I am alone.' And it might be heard.

Losing the possibility of something is the exact same thing as losing hope and without hope nothing can survive.

Do not wake me from this slumber, but be assured that just as I have wept much, I have also wandered many roads with my thoughts.

Here then - the after math of meaning. A liftime finished between the space of two frames.