when the north wind blows and it's spring but not really and the garbage trucks arrive early but they never clear away your shit and by law you must account for your life numerically - cause you can't explain it organically - and the construction next door is just getting started, and they draw your blood (literally) and you thank them... know that life is really for the birds, not you, and those birds don't care, they don't care at all about your stupid election signs.