The back is still desperately empty.

[johnnyruin]

I want to go back to the time when bricks were still answers and they fit our hands like gloves. Rough palms pointed upwards. And I didn't even realize that I was opening old wounds until I heard the all-too-familiar tearing sound of scar tissue

Comments

[anonymous]

although probably entirely intentional, some stuffz just too damned vague to follow. It's times like these I miss that bouncing yellow ball which tells you when to sing what.

[johnnyruin]

The problem might be that you're trying to make sense of it at all. There's no code or pattern to any of this. Just go with it, singing with the yellow ball was never really music.

[anonymous]

I look for patterns in license plate numbers and letters, but I will try to avoid doing so with your entries.