Thirty

We carry on, I guess until we can’t carry on any longer. The spark of youth has vanished and we’ve grown tired. The only thing to do now is to get into as lock step and march until we drop dead in whatever frozen Siberia we’re to find in the minds most advanced reaches. We’ll carry on, either west until the end, or east until we rediscover the beginning. And really is there any difference? The question remains if there will be any sort of sun rising or setting there.