The air of tyranny is begining to dissapate after five days of formidable presence. These suffocating vapours rose from their source in the kitchen and, rolling over the peninsula & countertops, they flowed outwards to determinately permeate all recesses of the residence. There they persist, though now without their erstwhile meanness--the robotic ring of the magic oven marking the completion of the last batch of Christmas cookies disengendered these lurking clouds of their malice. They linger as a reminder of former times, no longer a threat to persons of vigour.
We concluded that in such repressive environments, it is best to sublimate one's own urges into an instinct of unalloyed servitude. It is said that "Pines that bend not with the wind won't last the storm." A mighty will is a commendable quality. But to embrace subjugation oftentimes does one the best service in the end. In these cases, self-sovereignty still glitters as a shining jewel in the magnificent halls of thought, but for those of us who must dirty our hands with life in the world, it is prefereable to entertain this concept only as a diversion of fancy. We are emperors of our dreams. Otherwise, we mix, sift, & measure as bidden.
This entry shall be updated presently...
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