Having struggled all day with words with arbitrary meanings, these names no one else knows, I am left disillusioned with the whole idea of language, and hating systems. The militant pixels stare back from the screen, sullen. They do only what they are told. They stand in their lines, march according to the instructions, no matter how dull. Each one keeps time. Not one ever wanders from the prescribed path, nor grows nor shrinks, nor changes color. . .
I need to be out in the greenery, in the waving leaves, in the wind that no one can cage or order here or there. I need to be in the world of blankets and dreams, scenes that swirl into each other and effects without causes, where perspectives shift moment by moment, and anything can happen. Give me reality or give me fantasy, but don't maroon me in artificiality.