Won't you warm the day? I am switching back to pajamas or something like them. I say, hear, feel, that sleep is nice. What are you certain of? I have more questions but I can't have them. Ownership is a fiction that I don't want to read in the literature any more. Not that Russian Revolutions are on my agenda; Camus was too convincing about Rebels and sometimes absurdity. But I, postmodern? That seems like an ego trip down a deconstructed river (glass of water) that I don't know how to navigate without drowning in that which I might otherwise have flushed down a modern toilet. There is turning and perhaps thermodynamics across a force that you read about in a movie that you scripted and to be of this time or think in centuries, each impossible and inescapable.