Msnowe wonders about sustenance. Not in the form of food and drink, but in the form of relationships, ways of life, etc. Sometimes, in the middle of a way of living, an attitude, a relationship, msnowe jumps up with a start and knows, just knows, that despite her best attempts of sustaining, she is living in a dying world. All is flux, and once we get the glimpse of things we'd wish to freeze-frame, it hits us more than ever. Being In Time is like that.
As a femiladyist, it is expected of you to roll with the punches, and come back with a cleverly placed and effective right hook. And msnowe is often depressed by those poor saps who refuse to understand the constant, insane dialectic, but more often forgets that sometimes she tries to be a fix'd mark upon it, too.
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