you have served your purpose in documenting my struggle against the machine of lawns and costcos and all of that angst.
it's beyond me now.
my new life has started---
i've reached toward ideals and abandoned what is no longer real for me.
who knows how long internet data will exist,
like some ghost.
i hope you remain to carry the triumphs i had,
mingling with flowers and budding consciousness,
and my own coming into motherhood.
matrascence, i think it's called.
i'm still hangin' on the net, though.
continue the blossoming/unfolding/ripening/decay/and again