Something scratches at the head of the thought. Where is this disease going? Has it found it's own Cure? The teacher that wrote the syllabus sits in the front row, pondering all his teachings. But there is no one scratching meaningless white smears on to a green playing field. There are no exs and there are no more ohs.

The drink turns sour. The headache throbs. And ring after ring is blown. Once the clouds give way and the sky is revealed he realizes that it is black, decorated with unheard wishes. It had been dark for so long the day had faded away witout anyone noticing. Blind eyes are wiped clean of eye dews and vision is restored to those who have made those empty promises.

A Gasp!

A Pause.

And light begins to fill the cloudless sky. Smoke stacks of cigarettes wash away with the rain that falls from the parted clouds.

Stares of wonder are sucked in and that time is never returned. The clicking and humming of thoughts and concepts blurring together in horizontal scanlines of meaningless light and sound. You know the way here, but getting back; that's the true mission impossible. Once it's read it can never be unread and once it's written it can never be unwritten. He's wasted enough time here gazing. Ready to poke the 'X' and move on. So many or so few visits with so many fingers. All probing, touching, clicking and pointing and sifting through the sand made up of ash from all the corpses of ground zero; finding day after day the same unchanging cyberspace landscape. Is the end here? Did it come and go and leave the vast wasteland of populous ungrowth? Or is this the quiet before the storm?

You know the answer. The unfertilized seed ready to be born of the ash once again. She won't look any further than inside herself. Digging and probing with rodent appendeges, scraping at the gash, enlargening the hole...And what she finds will truely amaze you.