I feel broken now. I am lying strewn across the cobles in pieces. The way light refracts from a single raindrop in scattered rainbows, abandoned in the storms wake. I can't feel my personality and wonder if I ever had one. Yet there remains hope or at least the dim shadow of a memory of hope. Broken is comfortable and hope takes effort. Perhaps it is hope that should run down hill into utter entropy, I feel the world might be a better place for it.
