here i am, in a chair, sitting. i'm here, right now, writing this. all the while, the time that i have left here (in the chair - in the room) is rapidly shrinking. it always has been, from the moment i walked in here for the first time, but the time has shrunk to a terrifyingly small amount. when it gets this small, you really notice it.... soon i'm gonna be shot across the world. there'll be a new chair, in a new room, where i'll write new things. of course, a new timer starts ticking down then, too last night i drempt that i made things. i drept that i wrote things - drew things - sung things. it was great, until i woke up, tired. ... i wonder if i can make everything?