Radix When you were a child, you would sit and listen to your mother as she ironed your clothes - the hissss that would occasionally emit steam from behind and remind you of trains (among other things). It was a time in your life when you wore socks that frayed at the edges and that didn't have to say something about you. Despite that, the thought of that period in your life frightens you immensely; but when asked, you just say "There is always newness to be found - a new needle and threat a new way to dream dreams..." It bothers you that you cannot dream in color, only greyscale, and you are quick to anger when people tell you "Maybe in another life you were colorblind." You say that is irrational, which is laughable coming from you. One day you will alter to dreaming in color, you theorize. You are just in transit, a fleeting ill. And you know this because with each day you are perceiving something new. Even so, there is an impalpable emptiness making its home inside your gut and wallowing around. 10 years from not, you say you will be unrecognizable. You will grow out your hair, your nose will be smaller, you will be a colossal... You will no longer awaken each morning to the sound of a cock-a-doodle-doo but to the sound of a buzzing alarm clock in its stead, and that will say something about you. The present is only here to lull. There is always newness to be found - a new needle and thread, a new way to dream dreams...