like sands through the hour glass
a mysterious figure from the past has resurfaced and wishes to make contact. you know how it goes– open up some old wounds and absolve themselves so that they can make it into heaven or some shit. i, of course, have no desire to meet them but am still left with the old wounds. the look on my face when i put the two and two together was priceless and makes life seem like a fuckin’ sopa opera.