Silhouettes, oh is it my own shadow mocking? I do not remember, do not know, do not want to know for knowledge has kept me a prisoner. I loved freedom and the more I know, the more I have become burdened with the baggage that comes with “read between the lines,” is it just me? That between the lines is straight from hell, to make the path easier for those who invented this horrendous game? I try not to ponder too much as my head has been having migraines for a long while now. I need to rest. Memories. What use is there of it when it has led me to the mismatch? This mismatch of reality and memory, of what I believe and what is. Alas, the times has pushed on, like waves and the sands they are now gone back into the deep recesses, the recesses of the ocean, my mind gone green.