aftertaste, residual effect, affect, it hangs on me, drags me down, like baggage, luggage, a weight on the shoulders. but it's a book, a series of books, and it strength is confusing. thinking of the other times something's affected me as much, and thinking of what exactly of harry potter that sticks with me, barbed tip and all, and it comes to ginny for some reason. and i think of leaving las vegas. and i think of spider-man. i think of the tragic loves, where the hero denies love, breaks up with the girl, for fear of danger to his love. but how does leaving las vegas fit in? tragic love, love in the face of danger, besides danger, and maybe that's why the end of the sixth book surprises so much, in the face of so much suffering, pain, and agony, there still exists some love. but there's a happy ending, mostly, but still there's some pain and loss, death and destruction, and redemption, and left with an epilogue, a brief glimpse of the future, and hoping, wondering, how happy could you be? after all that's taken place, all that's occurred, to still find joy? and i wonder why i dwell, why i swim in the sea of melancholy, and wishing for fog and misty mornings, cool and contemplative weather, and not wanting to wash whatever this is away with bright flashy colors and light, with fluff and marshmallows and action, or science fiction.