Everything is accelerating: my old life, the incoming one, old thoughts, brand new perspectives. Places, people, objects, faces...Living between realities with my energy spread thin with all the in-betweens.

Times is still here, walking with me, like a chain in the fog propelling me toward the next link, one link at a time, not being able to see more than that, just trusting that the strength of my hands holding that chain, one link at a time, will take me out of the mud where my feet have been stuck for so long.

The book of my life has been once more shaken, with pages from random chapters swirling around me: I walk with a portable tornado.

But this is me, called by the wind, painting the air, blowing out candles.