cliches, new ideas, in conflux, how descriptions and methods and metaphors seem tired, from so much old in the world, with no newness, and without such, no words come forth. all these things, said before, but described as such? maybe not quite, but then again, probably has, too much art, too many viewings, you pass the same painting, hanging on the same wall, and remark at its beauty, its strength, its passion, but in time it fades, and bringing it up, remembering it with eyess closed dulls the memory. to dwell on the past using only things from the future, , in conflux, constant confusion clearly, and lost