eggs raze the man guards the ovum with his life, knowing he'll be gone too soon to see the slow splitting of the calcified shell. betrayed by his untrue love and shot by her accomplice, he sees his younger self step into a strange sort of dance with a small group of strangers on the street outside the house he was hatched in. he smiles, asleep in the arms of a false_memory that lands on a more poetic valediction than anything true ever could: we choose where we go to die, if only in our minds, and this fragile cargo we carry will survive in some form long after we've left it to fend for itself. 260408 what's it to you? who go blather from