On Only Revolutions...

I'm afraid, worried, it is like the first day of the job you've been waiting for, the wedding day. You know it will make things different. I get it, well i have an idea floating on the surface, and it is freaking me out. I want it, maybe too much. I'm worried that if it is everything I think it is, this will take a while, and at least 4 reads to do it all the justice I desire. Like going to Paris, you've always wanted to go, but there is soooo much, too much almost, and yet so satisfying when you are there, as you leave. I am journeying back in soon, all there and back again. with a pack on my back, and the tales of a dragon sleeping on twice stolen gold reverberating in my head. Maybe I'm just worried this Zahir of mine will leave me wandering the library counting hexagon rooms reading over and over again this book of structured simplicity and trying to use it to find how many rooms there are based on those numbers. You know the last time I walked into the Library of Babel the last figure I came up with had 75 digits and 125 0s following them. That was quite a lot, and I still have the reams of graph paper. I bought a new pack today, and looked up the number for the maths dept. My mouth waters as the equations spin on the edge of my vision. I don't think people will like me much aftr this. And I'm not sure I care anymore. My bed is still warmed more often by down and cat fur than warm bodies. And maybe the bed is too small to hold much else right now.