I met a most friendly spider the other day.
Although
It was quite redundant shaking each of his hands.
Manners can never be over-emphasized in situations such as this.
He sat upon a swirling orb of earthen technology and spoke of clouds of light being diffracted through faerie wings.
He proceeded to demonstrate this principle by altering the lingering marijuana smoke into a three dimensional model of cosmic rapids. The waters of time, flowing ever forward, expanded through wormholes leading to other tributaries of Father Time's thoughts.
A shift in the alignment of my perception.
A pinprick of light multiplied by one thousand times over burst forth brilliant patterns in the remaining cloud of Mary Jane's presence.
Where did that damn spider go?
We are...
We are like that sentence.
We are not finished.