Block. Brick. Block.
Where will it go? Where does this flow?
Clock. Tick. Clock.
When it all happens too much, all at once.
To sit and to watch the world go by, and to never truly know why.
Knock. Kick. Knock.
I feel a pull.
Pure.
Pure wizardry, life so tiny – willful, warm; the light off a glowing hearth.
December 28, 2025
