if_you've_got_time_and_not_much_will raze you might be like me an embryonic shoot barefoot and still smelling of sleep marking out tentative steps in a garden of grand designs with all that's been cultivated not atrophied from inactivity but dormant lying in wait frost-resistant buds bending toward brightness in search of slender filaments and powder fine enough to dream in 220203 what's it to you? who go blather from