HOW MUCH HOPE IS .01% CHANCE?

Picture a ball of fuzz caught and lifted by a drift. It rides the tides in full submission to a will greater than itself while onlookers assert "look at that crazy fuzz loop-de-looping around our heads". Now the fuzz, while having no choice in the matter of where it is taken, has infinite options of interpreting the experience in a way much more profound than onlookers.

"it's nice to be able to talk about art", he said

Ah, the story of inspiration.

To be afraid of the wind at this stage would be counter-productive; to accept it without question, counter-intuitive; and so in between parantheses the fuzz roams free until an eyelash, also swept up by the breeze, bumps against his well- cushioned self. As complete strangers they feel unexpectedly comfortable together--like looking into a mirror--and as long as they stay within the parantheses there is plenty of play.

"why couldn't he wait until date number THREE?", asserts one in jest. "i wanted to see that .01 percent chance of it working", expressed the other.

Such they danced and danced without legs, anxiety only so often meeting doubt to throw them slightly off balance. In a healthy way... probably.

lalalala lalalala