the caus­tic wasps in their igno­ble quest for intan­gi­ble and imma­te­r­i­al whis­per­ings. the unruly fury of a searcher with noth­ing to look for. sim­belmyne and cre­a­tine and the smell of a rot­ten apple. led zep­pelins rain­ing down onto a rap­tured accom­plice in the cos­mic mean­der­ing. my spoon is too big. please for­give me i’m oh so very repen­tant. and i nailed him to the cross for i was too weak to be hum­ble. a chip­munk squeaks and the film ends with a white screen.

what noth­ings do you speak?