Reality is so very elastic. It snaps back to shape, perfectly, absolutely everytime. No matter how stretched it became through the filter of that rusty childhood vestige (imagination) the night before, the next morning it is what you left behind. What for however long you had dispelled. That is not such a very bad thing. Tomorrow night you can try again.

Unmoored.

Don't forget...

...that there is always a reason to dance.