This evening I prepare for the end of one phase, but not yet the start of another. My mind knows, but, perhaps, hasn't really realised yet the imminence of it all. Of the next step, I barely have a few paper scratchings and a recurring lyric. I aim for another dalliance down a rabbit-hole of fate. That would be my middle name, after all. I pray it is creatively fecund; never a bolt hole, nor a black hole.