distance

25 ml valerian away from certain self-destruction.

how long or when. wherefore. whereto.

as it is said: Ne mæg werig mod wyrde wiðstondan, ne se hreo hyge helpe gefremman.

[The weary cannot stand against doom, nor can the troubled procure help (think of being helped)]

whtever the wyrd is. its just this all-exhaustive tiredness, endless palaver to no benefit, impossible communication or lack thereof, duty sine rights and al that that constitutes one’s existence in a post-something world.

or maybe it is something specifically latvian, i wonder?

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