I apologize to Emanuel for not being able to wish him a happy birthday.

It is hot, and begs for wandering this late at night, with the city a dimly jeweled beast snapping and curling about my feet.

I have not felt this in so long, that gnawing haunt that will not let you sleep, a vague restlessness that drags you, sags you. Tired, surly, angry, pulsing, waiting.

And what is there to do but sit, the dissonant Spartan hum breaking the air about my ears?

Nothing.

Nothing again nothing.

Why do you never speak.

I had not thought death had undone so many.