It’s about time for the moody and unexpected.

We mosey back to right about where we want clarity about motives.

We’re in no hurry.
Snow and sun? We’re expecting something.
Ice or melt go missing.

The reader note went on, One afternoon while napping one poured over a confusional book. We are at the dawn of epistemology raising consciousness one can’t get from study alone. It continued, the mood wobbles. It does. It vibrates. But nothing’s lost. It’s about time.