All my useful imaginary deities deserted me. But I think I found a new one: Ka, "Who?", Prajapati.

"Prajapati was alone. He didn't even know whether he existed or not." (Roberto Calasso, Ka, p. 21)

I am tracing a path out of childhood, the void. It is a dance, backwards and forwards, a bee dance, vibrations of the behind. At times, it is happy! I need to be erratic, I'm going to start writing online anonymously again for awhile (maybe) I want to throw tantrums in a padded room (maybe) If you want to know where, email me and I'll tell you (maybe)

Maybe I'll come back here some day.