NO MANS LAND.
How much of what happens passes you by?
All of it, I am not suspended in the time I am suspended in by any means.
None of it, I see every one of doubts cast glances, and the give away gesture never escapes me.
No-mans-land and the space between dormitories. The life led to the life to live. The concrete and grass verge conflict. The grass made slippery by the morning due. The leather well dodged. The chauvinism of cannoniers. The listening silence of the counter-miner, and all of that net op tijd. Boom!
The countless lines mulled over and forgotten. The best best forgotten, forgotten anyway.
How many lines? No lines at all. How many lines? No lines at all.
I used to plod around in the darkness, now I plod in the light.
—Rod Summers