The joy of transition. Not knowing what the next step is feels like standing on a trap door rite as it falls through beneath your feet. That unexpected decent into uncertainty. A fork in the road, both routs equipped with yield signs with no view of on-coming traffic. Indecision at it's apex. Where to go? What to do? No coin to flip, because both sides appear to be the same in different ways. The end starts at the beginning. Tracing shadows, altering reflections, un dreaming to re-dream a waking nowhere. The horoscope written by a dyslexic amputee with disassociation syndrome. where's the map. What are the directions. I'm lost sir.