back_from_the_rink pSyche No longer in contact with the ice. Unsteady footsteps echo down the hallway. So much junk, so many broken, forgotten hobbies litter the apartment. A simple lack of commitment. Not much I want to do as I sink into the armchair by the cold hearth. Some unstoppable gut reaction, some urge within commands me to call you and tell you I'm back. But I don't. A shiver runs down my spine. It's cold. And damp down at the bottom of my shoes. Somebody light a fire for God's sake. 070221 what's it to you? who go blather from