My slumber lumbered with a dark and sickening river last night. I look to the dreary of Great Britain to find Sir Nicolas. He is government and artistry. We journeyed in vampiric spaces in vicinity and within ourselves. Under my gaze, he obtained a night of deep sleep. We ate a joyous meal of Panera the next morning. Nicolas, spycraft can be lonely and so heavy in its dreary danger. You did great to stay solid in my company. I have changed since our paths crossed. You would find me still with a sense of humor, but with a seriousness that overlies that comedy. Maybe you are the same. Colombia came calling yesterday through Jimmy Fallon's guest. He also greeted Saudi Arabia's Prince Kalid telepathically. South Americans and Arabs do overlap in a way that is not picked up in the day to day. I wish I had more to say, but today I try to embrace the silence, and become more respected and less connected. Demons hunt me land and sea, and I just must evolve in self and theory, and revolve in community and in the galaxy. Dream for me tonight and let me rest, baby royal tree.
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