Let there be a thousand words

M (also known as Dr. T, praise be unto him and his seed) watches the afternoon waste away into an uneasy Sunday evening . The cycle repeats, week after fleeting week whose brevity belies an endless life, just like the warm desert afternoon withers into the chill of a starry night, only to reveal another sunrise.

M is beyond cycles. M has no beginning, nor has he an end.

M is.

M: "..."

His Insignificant Aide (also known as Ia, curses unto her and her ignorant lot) too is beyond worldly cycles. Just as soon as she can get to this juicy hummingbird.