With no conscious thought, I announcd my arrival at the arch by screaming "Thank you!" at the top of my lungs. I looked at the golden lions perched on the lower fod zure columns. They had nothing to say. And though I wasn't headed toward any kind of intentional outcome, still not having realized what was happening, I screamed the words again, with more force than the first salvo, this, in spite of having just come from the top of my lungs. I settled into the rhythm of the acknowledgment as it transformed into something vicious, helped by inertia now, and so long refined a set of human instructions that it was a flawless response, operating in the complete absence of my input or oversight. In handling this moment lightly I was revealed to be a courier, though it seemsd to came without any special distinction. I did not need to know. I would have gotten in the way. I was surprised by how easily my voice left any familiar register, entering a lesser spoken range of sounds, meant to accompany some hopeless arrival into the pain of a damaging personal betrayal, or in the reversal of a lifetime, of assurances and preparation, a spiritual vivisection, (what's anesthesia?), as if a most holy, truly uncommon love, had capsized, instantly, making then these sorts of strange sounds, but with this bizarre mantra encasing them, every repetition slipping easily into an intensifying, unreliable spiral upwards. My eyes couldn't land,  nothing made sense, I was immediately mwithout the physical ability to focus my pupils or on the  screaming in this ambush of rage with my neck fully exposed, head turned up towards the rafters, waving a flaming piece of wood towards the physical corners of everything around me, the carefully arranged curves, in a reflexive effort to cleanse myself and the beautiful, tireless, timeless room and everything in it, brimming with more psychic energy than any place I've ever been but the Alamo and the Abbia Di'Sant Antimo, but I wasn't thinking about those places then because I was caught off guard by my own violence, and I was angry, if that word were a road sign in to indicate and I didn't know what the point of this was, but I was just screaming, at the top of my lungs, again trying to break through to a Tbinnworld beyond this otherworldly room and I came outside into the cold air to try to calm myself. I locked the door and I'm standing under the bells, still crying for this new year. I can't see really, through my tears, and I'm disoriented a turn further to be tapping this out without pen and paper, so please forgive any errors.

January 2nd. 2025