they have no sense of symmetry.

there are men fighting outside of my window.

the moon was so small last night. it shrank away every time i looked for her. it smelled of burning leaves, though. that was something.

i am a foolish and sad thing. i need to learn to hold my tongue.

element girl.

i've only ever doubted the presence of a loving, merciful god once. even then, it was a depressed sort of agnosticism; the issue of existence was never even a question. of course there are good, forgiving, personal gods out there. there are devious, dangerous, devilish ones lurking around, too. they're everywhere. to be honest, i'm not entirely sure how most people manage to avoid them for long enough to not notice them. to each her own, though.

but i do doubt the world. sometimes i fall too far underground. sometimes all of the beauty fades, shrinks away like some tiny, dead moon.

there are saints that help, though. john. gordon rugg.

i thought that whoever would dare to disprove the voynich manuscript would have to be awful. (if you haven't yet noticed, i love truth more than fact.) but the man who did is both brilliant and good. (i love, love, delightful bastards, of course. perhaps more than i should, in fact. but i am capable of appreciating better things.) he is a filler in of gaps, a mapmaker. he finds the spaces where all of the specialties in a given field don't meet, and tries to find the answer there. in the case of the voynich manuscript, at least, it worked. next he plans on looking at alzheimer's and physics. so i declare him saint.

i hope your world reminded you that it was beautiful, today. if it hasn't, i recommend that you watch the nova special on string theory. if it has, i hope you'll let me know what it did.