E,s, l,u,n,e,s, *We'll be !b!a!c!k* //((after Micachu))\\

Some of us wake up with sticky dreams* from last night, left as drops of sweat on the pillow, sound echoes from posterity ingrained as vicarious, already-lived memories. Suddenly, the alarm clock brings the shock of a new morning, "another day" with its own strange unfolding, crawling up our backs. Oh, it's MONDAY!