a web, true to form, sitting in the center and a tingle shoots down a spoke, a connection, a signal sent, received, drawn to. long time ago, the web didn't exist, was quite small, and connections made were not spider silk, strength tensile and nearly unbreakable, but tenuous, ephemeral, not like the beer, beir, behr, fragile, like cotton candy. but suddenly, a return, the tip, a tweak amongst the trees in the forest, a mark found, noted, noticed, the red balloon with schoolkids' name and address, a glimpse, a google. things out there, placed on platforms, available in libraries, on street corners, and the world is never so small as on a computer, but it's never expected, it's still a shock, when out of the deep, out from the memories, out of the past a note comes. wish i had better documentation, wish i had something i could query for, something, anything, but no such luck, because memory and fact and anything else begins to fade and meld, and would be frightful to figure out what i had thought all these years is actually wrong, like living a self delusion, not knowing a date, a year, what happened for an entire existance, and numbers begin to blur.