Did you ever think you would be standing over the toilet in a dirty bathroom with a cigarette in your mouth, admiring the smoke as it floats out of the window and into the upper stratosphere when you were 11? Seeing the smoke form into letters that spell out "evacuate" is sometimes what it takes to jolt one from ones "discontent" with ones surroundings. One would say, if one were so inclined, that awareness of the situation is the first step to resolution but really the first step is the reality of it all. The situation itself is the real first step.
As I sit awake at 3:30 am, lighting another cigarette, reminding myself that I don't smoke, the smoke spells out more words. Words in a language somebody at some point in history has to have seen before. Words that speak to me in new levels of my being. Words I have yet to decipher except Evacuate and, now, Alone. The smoke, still pulling towards the sky, forms a spiral that intwines my visual perception into an argument between Set and Harsiese that just never seems to finish. Neither side will have anything to do with a diplomatic end to their contest so why the fuck should we even tell them it's an option.