impermanence all around you say like you’ve bought a round of drinks for friends at a party in your honor. Connect the new faces at dinner with insecurity and unrehearsed prayers, chanted quietly in mixed verse. Thirty six is the number of years you’ve traversed roads that ultimately end in a series of sloppy victories headed towards the drain of success and nerdy black eyeglasses that keep you there amongst the bottom-dwellers. I damage the image belle of the isle now flitt