good lord, where am i? i'm in cannons and verse. i'm in gnarly-smelling venice, in dublin, in joyce. i'm on edge, and sore, but my tiredness is gone, only manic fury, a fly, fly reaction. i can see the shit, and the fan, but i'm not moving, not moving, just twitching as the truck turns its monstrous unmoveable unshakeable face at me and i know there's just no time to bounce, crushed, off its hard metal face. this woken golem, species of insect turns dumbly at me, my path becomes inevitable, and i'm not moving, not afraid, calm as caffeine, slowly, slowly, thinking, posing a question, is it absurd that this single moment of life stretches forever, when it's also inevitably going to end? can i prove that there hasn't been one single person out there who hasn't lived forever, hasn't finally transcended, been born up by angels or supernova'd from within, or just wandered off somewhere, i don't know, a forest, or gone up a mountain or something or whatever or i dunno or yep i already know the answer to this question.