Follow Up

As seen, or made exclusive of, unbeknown is the revival of this gloom-shroom. But it is a sense of adventure to click of a presumably "dead" space to see a growing fungoid. Like those golden days when you actually do go out, catch a bunch of frogs in a jar and let them loose inside your brother's room, expecting a scream.

But no.

These days, it's all the mall, and those neo places accomodating a disco ball and near-Parkinson disease ravellers. Whatever the cost, the real outdoor is losing touch. No one wants to fly a kite anymore. They wanna shoot down a kite, with a sticky paintball gun used since yesterday. No one wants to play firecrackers anymore. Inste-

Oh wait they still do.

Fagnuts can't stop making noises after 3AM
One of these days I'm gonna ninja them from the back, marking my existence and warning by peeing on their faces.

Speaking of epic return, I have, to a very large extent, chopped off my hair. It's uber short. But it ain't half bad, saved by the overwhelmingly longer sides and fronts.

Epic return, also means that, I am back to my very very very very oldest self. Expect things you won't expect when you meet me next time.

It's a brand new version.