I was so lonely when I wrote this book, I had just left 10 months in Germany where I made great friends, a lover, had become a part of 'it', and then left and was trapped in Limbo, wanting to go home, but knowing I never really had one, why I left to begin with. It was beautiful spring days, but other then one of the heavy hash smokers from the kitchen, I was afraid to make any connections, cause I knew I would be gone again soon. My writing and myself were the only friend I had at this point, and I sat around making excuses and begging forgiveness. I'm glad you still like these old inks too