chair raze i slept on a bed of white-grey stone, but it wasn't a bed. it was more of a throne. a short-haired dog whose coat was the same white-grey looked at me with sad eyes, sad for what they'd seen or what they knew without seeing, or what they saw in me, and i gathered food without help and sank back into my rigid resting place, steeling myself against the coming cries of disapproving ligaments. 140308 ... Risen I hate my wheelchair. It makes me so angry to still be in it. Two years is a long time. Too long. I want to be free of the damn thing. 140308 what's it to you? who go blather from