"Wolf-pup, wolf-pup! Wolf-pup!" 'Wolf-pup' she cried. A spirit made from atoms and flesh and blood called for me. "Wolf-pup!" I melted and thus became puddle. And this is how it went. Day in, and day out. "Wolf-pup!" and then puddle. A wolf-pup puddle. Much like the cycles of rain and river. < ... >
You know: sour dough. That weird ooze that REAL BAKERS use in their bread to make it rise; instead of that newfangled yeast thing. Below my adventures with this fun substance, followed by an honest bread recipe for those that got hungry during their reading of the post. < ... >
Fading memories exposed. Too much bleach used.
So people have been begging, clamouring for an update. Screamed they have, with burning tongues. Well ok then. Am sitting in Stuttgart right now. In an airport terminal. Waiting to board a plane to Barcelona. My carbon-footprint is so big that I am afraid it has squashed multiple of the smaller countries. How did it get this far? I dread to know. But I know. I know. But I'm trying my best to squash the memories. But then they explode and are exposed. It's too late. A lucid birds-eye over-fly view of the last half year, with all the really important bits left out: < ... >