The stronger they are the greater the muscle, the oddly painful, coming to the start.

A man appeared in the distance, or perhaps a women, but a shadow could be seen, like a phantom, even gliding upon it's feet.

The birds had nothing to eat, busy dying while eager to find a scrap anywhere, began to attack each other. It was a pecking order for sure.

The bridge came into view as sad on both sides as if one land was the same, both mostly weeds and the stench of death. The bridge seemed unused as nobody showed any signs of loving it, nothing cleaned, nor work done to keep it strong.

I think we are getting close to a last stage of the war. I think it would be harder to understand then an endgame in chess. So I won't want to form many opinions.

What do I do about "Truth?" I don't very much, being busy mostly, then taking breaks. I am about doing, though I reflect, my inner life is not to be my focus, I don't want to think too much about anything accept science and what I can observe.

War in a nutshell.

Sometimes I hang around with my friends.

If only.