There is a bird on my roof, claw digging winged argonaut, stratosphere jumper of anxious pecking disorder,
and the squish trade is that of minimized reluctance to acquire a taste for the jabberwocking cacophonous
meandering of my synaptic occupant – my stilt loft brain. Have I concealed my depth in
lack of care for integral astronomy. Then I say I do not! No, the seismograph clicks,
I am a doubter’s devonshire. Let me particulate my research into the goings on of humans
into, rather, the unseen resendant creature on my roof. It is of the fast deed! The immediate!
Quash the unpredictable upheaval I suspect! Is NOW the bird walks. I’ll supplant later
with raucous fervor to manipulate nothing in this instant! – Sinz