rationalisation

The juxtaposition is surreal. unreal. too real. right here.

Storm clouds lick the macs again and I am sipping beer, almost cold as the sun reflects off the ghost gums and we talk shop as big as supermarkets. I am beyond those old times when each success was a sour grin. Basked and baked till crisp and sweet. I am no longer running up hallways.

Invisable hands like market theory. I move between this thought and that. The fire is well burning so I throw away the kindling. Search out something bigger than myself.