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[truthreader]

Patterns, patterns - such a predictable city. Gears in a clock. Like the sea, with the coming-then-goings, law-then-lawless, calm-then-storm. Cries for this and cries for that... law and lawless... waves in and waves out, Luna pulling like a sailor or she used to, on Earth-That-Was.

A recurring theme, no escape. Ren suan bu ru tian suan. The

Comments

[gone_creating]

Lassie, you feel a tempest coming?

[truthreader]

Something always comes. Loud to quieter, but never quiet. A constant fluctuation.

[gone_creating]

You like the quiet then?

[truthreader]

Would like to like it. But experience is necessary for judgements.

[empathed]

Time has no meaning here... You can't be running out of what you don't have.

[truthreader]

We... forget our times, in this place. And memory has little meaning either. Grains of sands run down and down.

...We can go into negative numbers. It fits with the mood.

[empathed]

The hour glass can be turned over.

[truthreader]

But would we want to? A turn too hard, and it could shatter. And so we lose grains, and more sand buries them. As Prufrock asked: Do I dare disturb the universe?

[noruttinidea]

Now what's gotten into ya, girl?

[truthreader]

Only the feel of the place. Patterns show no signs of stopping, more to come. And not a patch on a Mandelbrot set - it irritates.

[noruttinidea]

You seein' things again?

[truthreader]

Only what everyone sees. Don't you see it? Tension, pressure - too quiet for too long, and now there are murmurs, and things will come. And so it goes.

[warconductor]

And ignorant armies my class by night.

But the commander might be all too... knowledgeable.

[truthreader]

Perhaps. But a commander who keeps his armies in ignorance... pride before a fall, embodied.

[warconductor]

Indeed. And most of them are not.

But some are just so surprisingly dense.

[truthreader]

And you? Dense or... transparent?