Cold I am painting a picture that demonstrates how to paint a picture so that I can explain to you that you clear the storm. A hunter can never kill every victim it preys on and a surgeon can never save every patient it practices on, but, "never" is such a tentative word. I try to learn to spell as many words as I can and I find myself spellchecking everything. I find myself spellchecking you but I find no mistakes. Perplexed. It's the enigmatic feeling you get when you awaken from a forgotten dream, and the last word on a page in an unfinished sentence. Time always slows down in the cold.
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