The systematically correct way to slice your diamond complexion and enjoy the sudden happiness of a budding spring lust that has engulfed your entire year. Throwing away clocks and relaxing in the boarderless reasons of what you are doing with whomever you are doing it with. Ruins, everything suddenly coming together in a half hazard way but looking surprisingly complete and filling in all the lines and even some on the outside to make you feel right at home. Home is where you are. My home has become a travel, a destination I admire and daydream about, a destination I'd return to time after time. A place I have never left. Pop songs, once dispised, now play on a constant loop of punch drunk melody on a radio with no Next button and no Off button, but a constant speech that drums like a finger leafing through a profound booklet of art, only to feel a lot more then it's connected mind will ever understand. A funny, yet reeling little notion of a motion scene, playing out within your everlasting landscape and bumping into people with releative greatness even though there is no solid relation. A steamy force field emulating this vibe that portrays no real evidence to state that it was inside you, a link that only arises when your around, you make it easy for me to breathe.