Hidey-holes, snip snip scissors. Furtive, fleeting glances. Crossroads. Which way do I go? Either way brings loss, sadness, and, yes, relief. Dungeon-darkness to spring meadows, figuratively speaking. Too foggy to think or decide. Ponder through reduced produce and sale prices, half-alert, half-alive. I'm stuck here, looking this way, then that way, indecisive to the end.
Is it the end?
