Allahu Akbar!

If so, then I'll know. If not, there will be no telling. 

Over, but not above, of this much we can be sure. 

The stated 'capital P' place, not for nothing, is said to 

be within an easy reach. Easy, that is, for those who 

are considered to have 'made the grade', if not 'the' 

grade, then maybe just 'a' grade. We leave so much 

unsaid in an effort to save our remaining breaths. But 

the precious time left could be all that stands between 

us and that which we have trouble coming to terms with. 

It's all anyone can talk about, and yet nothing is ever said. 

How could this be?

A plan is drafted in a single night, in less than ten minutes in fact. Nothing is written down, so maybe 'drafted' isn't the right word. It's only one sentence long. But since there is no punctuation of any kind maybe 'sentence' isn't the right word either. There's one detail that's still reasonably vague. I say 'reasonably' because too many specifics could interfere with our innate spontaneity. This would not be helpful. Each of the Jasters insists on being helpful. I count myself among them. This is not going to be easy. Nothing of value ever is. But the pain of trust is a balm to the bomb of truth. Those who find themselves excluded will be lambs of the final ordering. And the blame will trigger the start of a serious lack of journeying.

We're fairly certain that a breaking point is in the offing. The slightest 'tell' could act as the garment of a shameful wind. A barely judicious account of these events is all that we've ever hoped for, as against so, then, inside. What will hamper is a no-solution solution. Why any brink will allow falling, no living person has yet been told. Those who could tell are lost. As in, the location in which they find themselves is unknown outside of a small circle of apparently ordinary occupants. They're only identifiable by their preferences in personal hygiene products which have how been banned. So you see, we're kind of 'up a creek' as it were. 

The person we look to for even the most minimal direction has been asleep for, what, six days at least? His wife has been detained at a major airport. Unfortunately, by now everyone has forgotten the meaning (if there ever was one) of the word 'airport'. This is due to a mysterious toxin that started appearing in our food not less than six months ago. Well, again, 'appearing' is the wrong word (sorry). Not only did this toxin have no appearance, it had no taste or smell either. How did we know then? It was written in a book that was destroyed in a coal mine explosion in West Virginia in late 2014.

If anyone who may one day read this has any doubt as to the veracity of the above account, then plainly that individual may not be someone we can 'do business with' as common vernacular has it.

Allahu Akbar!

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