there is nothing left to do, just hold your breathe and hope it's true that we'll arise

seem to have misplace the box to the game of everything in it's place

I was once on a midnight walk with Ben, in Cottage Grove. Ben was an very interesting character, a cynic among cynics, who considered most formal curtosies with contempt, his manner would was considered quite rude by most, he was prone to a number of compulsions, one of which was to curl up strips of paper. Well, I the instance I was getting to was most likely like any number of nights where we where debating some issue relating in general to the world is really f-d up, social inequity, or some fictional history related to any number of roleplaying games, or character concepts, well this night our conversation was interupted by an old man on the street, we had not heard him approach, I belive he spoke to us for sometime, but the words that I remember are this 'growth comes in spurts, and this is evident in the rings of a tree' , from which you can see the amount of growth with each passing year.