bzzrt kzzisit shh ak...it's not complete isolation turning into a dusty alleyway when the way is as crossed footy fields of old car parking with fading yellow lines and cracks making way for crumbling weeds. what happens when some alter ego emerges swiftly from a diseased silence, only to possibly fade away before any sense is made clear? novelty wears thin. what happens when the car breaks down by the waters edge and the roofrack, a tarp and some empty water containers become your new vessel or refuge? nothing of course will perhaps make any sense at all times, as trips just under four million metres in a home made mask, fighting without desert winds, to move in the only direction you remember travelling toward, in a dream that fades into lost property. isolation as a bar. drink for water or to drink? over and over. a cascading flow repeating forever. was that just another dream? too many questions. erase any afterthoughts before drowning this text into a common pool of swill that we'll all be eating in a pigs afterlife.