If this blog in the crawl spaces of interwebs was a room in real life, it could have been reclaimed by nature, an overgrowth of vegetation with damp and heavy poorly ventilated air. A room where no one ever really came. No one ever left.
Much like the first Jurassic Park. Minus the all the dinosaurs with acute deafness (why else would they freaking roar in every single scene), Jeff Goldbloom, and everything that could have been real.
I walk in to take a seat on an imaginary seat in the said room, dabbing the non existent ink with the invisible pen, with a brief pause and stroke of the beard, a sense of old yet familiar self floats to the fore.
It has been a while.
