The farmer, he was headin’ to the boneyard any minute. He didn’t go around squawkin’ about it…
I guess I don’t got nothin’ to say. I have all of these feelings, but that’s all they are. It’s a mistake to put too much importance on them. One thing I’m trying now is to pretend that this is all happening in a really good book, one where I’m glad all this stuff is happening to the protagonist because it’s pretty interesting, more interesting than just watching someone cook dinner or whatever.
And more terrible stuff is happening to people all around you. You don’t have to go looking for it. You just set right there, it’ll be along shortly.
No need to get up.
It will yet seek us out.
May you and yours remain hidden a bit longer.