different, my place, but i'm subletting, returning to old haunts, soon enough thy wit is golden, thy tongue superb, let he who's words flow more freely than water shower his goodness upon me, i can't wait. it's been a while, too much science, too much computer, not enough life, or essense, too much machinery, too much filtration, sometimes necessary against the evils of city water, not enough heart, or emotion, even though it hardens the heart but i hold them dear emotions, emoticons, those awful smiley faces, frowning faces, that try and pass for peoples' emotions, when how can a mishmash of punctuation capture what even words, sentences, paragraphs, novels cannot convey?