Below us and the wheels of our steel box, resides the mammoth mole-hill of molecules, who in fact are bitter today after close scrutiny of their role in supporting ten billion sweaty feet for a mere two incarnations a day. Behind us lie the things we just did and though and were and would have, and everything else dressed in the fuzzy, shag beanie of ‘past-tense’. In front of us, giant green, street sign patiently contemplate over who will take their advice next. While the fates that we create rush at us like magnet to metal, within us lies the ‘blanket fresh outta the dryer’ solace that reminds us why ‘the present’ is called the ‘present’.
Lines from Brandon's book 'White Fluffy Cloudes'