phoenix rises, ashes, digital nests of rubbish, or clutter, detritus, drift wood, and that bottle, filled with words on scraps of paper, no, not quite like that, not quite sure what it's like, but it's threads, it's connections through people, through computers through pages, through time even, possibly, but in all it's funny. it really is. what is it now? what's it like? who is she now? different? same? the years have definitely passed, but only 3, which isn't nearly as much as it feels. anyway, could just be a spark, a shooting star, a passing fancy, and away it goes. reference points. where two lines diverged, describes a plane, upon which a reality is formed, and a space, if possible, defined. the world we live in, inhabit, and share.