This recording thing has been tainted by the scourge of logic, the whip of care, the riding crop of linearity. This shall stand no more, Logical consciousness is delegates to keeping to logic stuff now, artistic consciousness will fill the aether with butterflies of words.
I went to a cabin today, made of pine, though it wasn't desiring anything. It was wood on the outside but *puzzles* on the inside! Words and languages and such craftiness! Aislynn's so clever, a door hard to conquer with that of the bashy and the smashy or the picky! Many peoples, and I, tried to conquer this mighty hatch, so we could get to the delicious baby yolk inside!
Hours spent, frustrations abound! It was like the world started and stopped as we considered, sticks disappearing, fires igniting! Fwoosh! Then the invisible one came, the source of my fears! But she was not here for the harmings of the Xaoslyn, but to conquer the door! She had figured out the door's mighty secret, so clever too! Words were said, including bird words. And *ploop*! The door of openings, creamy treasure center inside! So wonderful a treasure, fancy suits, fancy places to put your swords! All on a big metal personage! And such occultness inside, Aislynn was *up* to something, or rather, *down* to it! Because it was not on the roof, after all. Perhaps, yes! Upside down! Now Aislynn was up to something! I'm clever too!
Back in chapeltimes though, always safeties to be having, such delights! Until we meet again, recording aether!
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