I must write now. And oh! those lost words. Those words who hover under the saids as the said-nots, and say-nots, for no one is ready to be put, placed, decided. I run from site to site, blog to blog, and find myself unable to write as I wish, a veritable word dodger when I want to be anything but. My words have no home. We wonder, together, in and out, around about. Vagrants, wandering but marooned. One day, I will learn to separate myself from x, y, z, and it will be marvelous. One day. Always future tense optimism. Always something you catch in quiet lights, that sharp face that means something altogether individual and driven. So we drive, we amble sometimes, we manipulate our realities. And for now, I will settle for a place that will have my words. And where? I hate this, saying everything by saying nothing, so abstract and removed. But we are bound. And how? By whom?