Incidental

Times. When so much happens. Much has happened. That what to write about first, becomes a warfare. In the cerebrum.

Night and day investigation of the events in the veil reaches such a heading. Simulation and sequence tends to engage the breadth of the carton. More than partial. Utterly. Sitting at a corner, reading a book doesn't happen, during all the time it is supposed to. Seemingly does, though. It evidently does come about. In substance, not much.

The globe seems to be comprising of so much more than the cyclic turns. Only the materialized find a place in the eye-shot. Array, argument and analogy remain. The case of fluxed understanding.