Start over now.

Without your notebooks, your list, your favorite pen. Without that book you used to like to flip through, looking for good words. Without the right song.

Your lost kingdom for a printer, a pillow, a guitar, a drink of water.

So many think of you, but they are wandering loose somewhere you've never been and cannot get to from here.

The value of your limbs too great now to think of trading for that painting you saved since avocado green carpet, the one that held you from behind.

No one knows what you have done. All your acts till today mere stories, all starting with "Before..."

Your home city: parable, hyperbolic tale of divine wrath and human bungling.

You now enter the Land of the Free, searching for the Home of the Brave.

You will find your people there.

Peace.