Along side my morning coffee, I'm staring at a huge cup of frustration & disappointment. If you care to try some, it is one part gall and one part bitters, laced with absinthe or absence I can't quite make out the old label. Anyway, mine over floweth. I've been having it since Kyron Horman's disappearance & subsequent nothing, then Antolin Garcia Torres's refusals to plead for fourteen months, & finally the Season of the Big Stymie by Nor Me and Will Not. I think if I can get to the bottom of it--three or four strong gulps--I may feel better as it represents an admission and an acknowledgment that justice on hold is justice refused and that I don't tolerate it well. It's just good to acknowledge that instead of wondering why the complexion's gone grey and the hair is standing on end. The cure is not within my powers, so I will simply drink to it.
Despair not dear Tuba, a delay may only be pause for breath.