I don’t know what a road is, if it simply exists, decided by a collective, some sort of need, or requirement, according to a bigger picture, to look at it, is there a way it’s a problem, some sort of skewed perspective, never greater than the world, maintenance within the bounds of humanity, even according to the rules of magick, to go against it, cogs in the machine, would you throw a wrench in it, considering the plight of humanity, what’s really necessary, riches, heaven, and the depths of hell, echoes of everything, must it happen, if the world and reality were just numbers I may be accepting, but for the lake to ripple, and change to happen, it should exist along the sequence, honey in a jar, a room and a place I can live in, the requirements of a spirit, journeys, sin, cos, tan, so many sailors and fishermen, content to live, aspirations to be a shopkeeper, a chef or a delivery man, existing within meager means, is all I really need, ever-extending branches and eternities, scattered seeds and milkshakes, dragon scales and the strong desire of weeds, does everyone get to eat, the inclination of change, and a rippling lake, waves pushing forward, next, next, always forward, along the sequence, is all I really ask, engineers and chaos architects, I wonder if they allow it…Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.