At the best of times, it doesn't really matter.

At the worst of times, by flux or otherwise, at least in the meta physical sense, I tend to be standing alone in the face of the stormy winds. Those times when the moral support of the loved many fills but three fourths of the void. Those times when all you crave is a simple smile, a warm hand, if not a full hug.

Times like those, you get a chance to see what it must feel like to be really poor, to be standing outside a restaurant and not have money, you know, those sad, sad things....

Those times....
What is it that they say? History repeats itself. And there is a pattern to that as well....

Damn!