This has become some lost corner of the internet where I could spill a few words with confidence that they'll be scarcely read. Less than four thousand page views in six years. I don't give a damn. It's like a private studio apartment hung over a discreet, rained-in alley on the ninth floor of a fifteen story building. The only glimpses one ever has of the people who inhabit these apartments are the stark hints they hang to dry from their windows - a pink sock, some potted plant, perhaps a different set of curtains. You only know, at least you imagine, that these are humans, wandering through their days to some job and returning to couch