I might as well walk to the edge now, walk to the edge and look out on the open waters that has become our nearing future. The waves are swelling, the swells at large, and I'm just holding my breath until they topple. They'll fold and un-fold, pushing out all our efforts of the last... how long has it been now? For now, I walk steadily on the shore of it-- the eve of it-- picking up shells for momentos; someday I'll put them in a jar and hang my memories-- my childhood-- on display. Or I'll simply push the box away, high on a shelf; untouched. The wave, it's coming near. It will echo the words that I've written in 12 voices. Just look at that wave swell...