You texted me at 3am, my time. Maybe that’s what awoke me? That ping through the atmosphere, I wonder which is stronger, thought waves or cell towers? You are reading Viktor Frankl, nothing arouses me more then a pre-dawn book share.

I couldn’t sleep after I read your message, I started reading ‘Man’s search for meaning’, and once again entertaining my tenuous tenure with the third dimension. I have been here before, once twice + thrice, in a samsaric summersault. Suffering, shame, laughter, growth, decay and delight. The ever illusive neutrality of enlightenment suffocated by vice. I am enamoured with the fighting and the fucking & have an inkling that music sounds better earth side. Is there bass in space?

I did eventually drift back off, after staring at the city lights dancing on the lake, the ground stars puncturing the horizon. Enter vivid dream, well of course there you are. Your hair in a reverse french braid because my brain has siphoned your Whatsapp image and inserted it in my dream realm. You are driving a beautiful car, vintage and shiney black. But then you ask me to park it, and I oblige, parking it in your garage, which is hole in the middle of a towering cliff.

Then you took me for a drive.