Top and bottom, please. Do not send me to a middle that only concerns itself with immedia' neighbors. Call it extremis, address it to Mr. Devil III and Ms. God Sr.; hoped for responses to stay out of purgatory. Did I work hard enough at the absurditis, Albert? Can I have mine eagles in this life and repeating, Friedrich? Did my confusion invigorate and make music, Heather? I won't know for a while; as I stare at the style; hoping for pauses, settling for causes. Push on, with the calm of the worm covered in ants, hoping for a robin or a rain wriggling on account of the pain remembering more than before of recants and chants.