The ooooooooos and the ahhhhhs and oooh la las as the constant stream of conscienceness floats downriver hoping to await its unfound glory of typos and missconnections. river wanter runs deep in underground poker rooms full of hazy glory of lost days...reminiscing on bills paid and suckers played, games of chess played and when we were kids how we played. We played everything, played the field, played in the mud, danced in our rooms alone with the mirror being about as judgmental as a mirror image of your face...funny how sometimes practicality slaps you in that face...with a leather glove found in your glove box, or a simple act of kindness that puts a smile on your face. Mirrored with mirrored images plastered on infinite hallways in an abyss of hopelessness we find a dangling string of dignity and clasp onto it for dear life. Its not as though we were falling, but held it close hoping for one day in our ample abodes of solitude, someone would reach down and tug on your string. It doesn't matter who, all that matters is that someone else noticed. And thus, you climb back on top, our of the dreary drudges of things unknown, or known too well by your silence. Primitive ambition harnesses your thoughts of emotion as excitement runs rampant like an overdrawn analogy of your infinite childhood imagination. Lurking in th shadows lies a horizon that you can't quite seem to wonder what lays beyond, except of course another horizon, or another summit, or maybe not, thats why we keep walking, walking with a purpose, or maybe not. Maybe we are the purpose, finding balance in seeking, finding pleasure in not knowing, while all the time we know that is the true answer...and then when we arrive and find it, all we lust after is once again the voyage. Set your sails against the wind and paddle up current, this mission has hardly started...bet you HOPED for something that would lead to an end...THERE IS NO END IN SIGHT!