i guess i can't communicate, i go insane. what is the truth, it seems there is none, only fractured narratives, yours, or mine, meeting only on shaky ground, man-made islands, eroding, fracturing further and further in time, the truth atomized. i can't be put together i suppose. i should just go home. home is a fractured place i can feel myself, feel somewhat whole, alone, my sadness at home.