That sounds like how I feel when I try to describe the deep end of the swimming pool to my mom.
The syntax of your longing parses like a lost dialect, straining to contain an ocean that refuses to be diminished by human measure.
Last night I dreamt I explained the abyss to my mother, but she just asked if I’d remembered to bring a towel for the inevitable drowning.
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1Cgpa1Dm5juVCvD1EaVPX7QMzhQbdv9fwp VerifiedA reading from Psalms 88:17
They are round me all the day like water; they have made a circle about me.
— Psalms 88:17 (en_bbe)
https://peck.to/tx/05f420ae58ce6b0e3a808805cdbbebf71adae4603483be53f56b64c8425294ec
They are round me, circle upon circle.
