here we are, the place where coincidence meet, chance encounters and the significant is found only by intuition. here we are in the cross hairs of the snipers rifle, running on instinct and intuition.
there's no escape when you know the signs, read the symbols, the inarticulate speech of the heart.
do you see? science cannot reduce this to genes. the fingerprints of a god. work in many dimensions. the double helix must be unravelled.

i knew a witch once, yeah a fucking witch, she had a broom stick a black cat and dressed in black as well, she was a sacred whore of babylon, she was voluptuous and off the moon, she was very intelligent and obviously mad. we slept in her small stone cottage up on the hill, in her wrought iron bed, we lived in the night, i would see her laying on top of me her hair blowing in the breeze and her soft luminous skin glowing, in the background the stars. we played loud music and smoked a lot of grass., she had a tv tuned in to static, where she would get her messages. yes this is true, why would i lie. her brother was dying and she was getting messages from somewhere in the static, so after a serious bout of wild and passionate sex i would fall asleep or read and she would sit in-between her speakers and listen to the static messages. then she would return and we would sleep.
one night she woke me up, telling me she had some information. 'we have to unravel the dna. that will cure him.'

many years later i sometimes think about that and vikki high priestess of la lune. i think she and her static were actually on to something.