once again pining. enthralled with the emptiness of a life spent waiting for lovers gone and lovers boarding trains traveling to the abyss of memory and never quite making it back. like 2046 minus emotionally bereft androids responding to the call for love a little bit too late. there's a story there, though, but not here. i'm standing on the edge of a cliff calling out to lovers. pointlessly. it's the dark yawning void and the only person i hear is myself calling back.