It’s the first time I’ve been south of Crater City, and the change in landscape is dramatic. True, there is lots of farmland here. But between the great spreads of crop land the ground is bare rock and pitted with crevices, some of which fall away into darkness and must be at least two or three hundred feet wide. There are connections, though, rope connections strung between wooden towers. It was fascinating to see how wagons, livestock, and people, were ferried across at such speed. It made me wonder if the architects of these ‘ferry’ systems were either supremely confident in their designs, or crazy.

The jury’s still out on that.

Armbranch didn’t know much about them, and Garigan and Hatra are so absorbed with each other I didn’t have the heart to interrupt them. In fact, Armbranch doesn’t remember much about Southern Borkon. The Nescan Barony of Isletta is somewhere south east of Crater City, but he barely remembers anything about his time there or being brought to the Gateway Envelop. He’s decided to call his time with me ‘Raymondtime’ and most of his memories before ‘Raymondtime’ concern the running of the Gateway Envelop.

Despite the broken landscape, this area is much more heavily populated than Northern Borkon. I’ve also seen some large cities in the distance, but the Maymen are steering clear of them. One of them actually spoke to me for the first time ever this morning. I was so surprised to hear his voice I didn’t catch a word he said. He had to repeat it twice before I understood we were heading to the foothills of a mountain range and we’d reach there probably early tomorrow.

I can see the outline of a mountain range in the distance now. It’s hard to gauge their height from here, but some of those peaks seem to disappear right up through the sky.

Touched down just outside one of Crater City’s smaller entrance gates very late last night. And as we dropped to the ground I began to wonder if Sara’s reasons for landing so close to the city had more to do with her own personal security than her worries about spies. There was quite a welcome party waiting. I counted six battery wagons, two larger horse drawn carts, and at least fifty personnel spread out around the landing area. Many of these personnel were armed and half a dozen of them formed a protective cordon around Sara when she stepped off the gondola.

They ushered her away so quickly into the lead battery wagon I barely had time to wave goodbye. I found out later from Garigan that the security wasn’t for her, but for something she was carrying with her. I’m sure it wasn’t anything from our world. No. Before we passed through the gateway she’d agreed that nothing would be taken back. And I trust that she kept her word. Though Garigan didn’t verbally confirm things when I asked if they were protecting the samples of the Brown Storm, he did nod with his eyes and whispered something about Kanar’s samples being just as important.

It was only then that I realised the significance of our time spent studying the Brown Storm. Those samples were probably just as important as samples of moon rock.

We didn’t stop long at Crater City. But before we rose again, we took on a passenger. A woman. Garigan’s wife. She’s a pleasant looking sort in her middle ages with smiling eyes and a voice as soft and strong as an ocean breeze. Hatra is her name, and she’ll be accompanying us to the R&R facility. I’m delighted for Garigan. Truly I am. The smile that spread across his face when she boarded the gondola seemed to light up the air around him.

Heading farther south now.

O’Heir’s recovered his energy. He called a general meeting at Singleton last night to discuss the recent events and how they would move forward. Everyone was there. Everyone, that is, except Maya. But Justin had hooked up a link to the Mill House so she could participate. Apart from a long and detailed discussion about my visit home, they didn’t really decide on much. I guess that was probably as well. They’re all tired, and O’Heir told me later that the real reason he’d called the meeting was to try and break the aura of lethargy that’s lain over Singleton since we left.

They did decide, however, that a record needed to be taken about the visit. The reporter’s volunteered to do that. He’s going to interview everyone involved and gather every scrap of information he can before writing up a detailed report. Though a few people thought the report should be copied and presented to each member of the group, they’ve decided to make only two copies for now. For security reasons, these copies will be held in safety deposit boxes in separate banks in separate cities. That’ll be O’Heir’s responsibility.

Though I initially had reservations about the reporter taking on such a role, I though it was a great idea. Okay, so this blog is my record of the trip home. But it only contains a smidgen of my thoughts and the main events of the visit. It would have been impossible to log everything here. Besides, I doubt if anyone would want to hear the finer details. I’d probably bore them to tears.

I am considering, however, writing up a separate private diary for Maya and I to peruse as we grow old together.

We’re approaching Crater City now. Though dusk is steadily falling, I saw the first glimmering outline of the city due south of here about half an hour ago. It looks magnificent. All those lights give me the best idea yet of how big it is. And it’s much bigger than I thought.

Snoozed well all day. I tried to write an update this morning, but there wasn’t much to report and my finger only found one keyboard key. I suppose that says it all about my current condition. But at least I’m able to relax. I thought the return journey to Crater City would have been the darkest journey of my life. It hasn’t turned out that bad. At least I’m not too afraid of the future any more. And, when I think about it, I’ve been in this place so long now it’s almost like returning to a second home.

We left the Shavlod behind last night. The land below us is a mix of low-lying hills and forests. But I’ve already seen the first scattered farms and Sara announced a while ago that we’d be crossing into Borkon some time tonight. After that, depending on the wind, we’ll reach Crater City tomorrow night. She also told me that she’d made arrangement for Armbranch, Garigan, and me, to continue on with the Mayman who will drop us off at another Cadavat safe place. She hinted that we’d enjoy it there. So I guess that this ‘safe place’ is some kind of R&R facility.

To be honest, the others look like they could do with a spell there, too. The Maymen don’t sing much anymore, Sara’s got dark rings under her eyes, and Kanar’s walks so slowly I’m sure if I could ever see his feet they’d be dragging along the ground. The only one that looks okay is Nokan. Then again, he consistently wears the same neutral expression so it’s impossible to judge how he is.

Despite this, they’re all keeping a good mood. And I’m not surprised. Sara’s just led a team through a gateway into another dimension. I’m sure they’ll all be well rewarded for this after they’ve been debriefed.

Ooops. I’ve just noticed that I wrote something peculiar at the beginning of this updated.

‘Returning to a second home’

Wow! Did I really write that? Am I really thinking about The Parawerthan in those terms now? I must be. Either that or I’m more exhausted than I thought.

I’ve decided not to say much about Saint Patrick’s Day. I don’t have the energy for detailed explanations. All I did this morning was greet them with the words, ‘Erin Go Bragh’. It means Ireland Forever, but I didn’t tell them that. No I kept them guessing. Maybe I’ll tell them tomorrow what it means.

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!

ZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz………………

I mentioned my worries to Armbranch this morning. He agreed that I didn’t look too hot. He also made it his business to mention this to Sara. She visited me up top a short while ago and gave me a brief medical examination.

So, under Doctor Sara’s and Nurse Armbranch’s orders, I’m to rest as much as I can until we get home. Then, Doctor Sara assured me, she’d arrange that I take a week’s R&R before I resumed work.

I thought Maya might have been worried to hear this news. But she agreed wholeheartedly with them that I needed a good rest. She also admitted that she was worn out, too, from my home visit. Actually, everyone is. Justin and Ana take it in turns to bring her her food, and she hasn’t seen O’Heir for two days. He’s resting, Ana told her. She assured me that my visit was all that made her tired. She’s feeling fine otherwise.

I’ve no idea how long might pass before we know whether she’s contracted Drague Fever from me, but with every passing day things are looking better.

It’s St Patrick’s Day tomorrow. I wonder if I should explain the concept to the Cadavat.

I think I need a long rest somewhere. In fact I’m sure of it. I dreamed last night that I was back home again. But all wasn’t well. The Brown Storm had followed me there and had tried to pass through the gateway. It got stuck there, one half in our world, the other half in the Parawerthan. As it tried to tear itself free, the violence of is struggle flattened Singleton and caused earth tremors that were felt half way to Dublin. Great cracks opened in the land for miles around. Our lake drained away. Animals panicked and fled. Hundreds of houses were damaged, electricity lines were severed, and there were so many auto accidents and house fires the emergency services had to summon help not only from Dublin and Galway, but from Northern Ireland, too.

And while the security forces evacuated the area and took up observation positions around the mushroom cloud mass of the Brown Storm, the storm’s enemies back in the Parawerthan sensed its weakness and pounced. I didn’t see that in my dream. All I remember was that Armbranch was back there and sending me hourly updates from a laptop. Sara was with him. She kept getting him to send the same message. The Parawerthan was in turmoil. Our world was in turmoil. And if I didn’t do something about it then the gateway would be wrenched apart and both worlds would get sucked into each other and be destroyed.

Me! She wanted ME to fix this. That was the first thing that struck me when I awoke covered in sweat to discover the gondola was being tossed about in a storm. But at least it was a normal storm, a tempest full of nothing but wind and rain. And just to prove it was harmless, I went up top and stood for a long looking into the darkness while letting the slap of the rain against my face knock the dregs of that nightmare from my mind.

Yes, I need a rest, a holiday, because going home certainly wasn’t a relaxing lounge by the pool sipping pina coladas. No. It completely drained my energy—both physically and mentally. And I know from experience that whenever I have a nightmare like last night’s, it’s a sign that I’m exhausted.

Today I think I’ll just lie up top and stay away from everyone.

Still over the Shavlod. But I’m so tired I can barely focus on the beauty of the place. Even when I see a new flock of birds, animals slipping through the vegetation, or the larger beasts that like to sun themselves along riverbanks, it’s like a part of my mind draws a shadow over these sights to prevent them overloading my mind.

It’s a shame. But I guess it’s also essential. I don’t have the brainpower right now to try to analyse much.

I’ve thought a lot about our encounter with the Brown Storm, though. I figure it was possibly one of my most extraordinary experiences in The Parawerthan. Not that much happened when it passed over us. It didn’t. That’s the point. After our encounter with the Black Storm I assumed that all these ‘living’ storms behaved the same. Now I know they don’t. Each has its own purpose, personality, and mood. I guess we were lucky that The Brown was focussed on something else when it passed. Though the Maymen had anchored the gondola to a dozen stout trees, I’ve no doubt the Brown would have plucked us up as easily as a child might pluck a ripe berry from a tree if it had a mind to.

It’s hard to explain, but it’s like that thing took something from me while invigorating me with something else. I feel less fearful and more confident about the storms now. Somehow, the Brown’s calm behaviour balanced out the ferocity of the Black.

I fell asleep up top and when I woke this morning I realised I’d forgotten to switch off the laptop and the battery had run down. It wasn’t a problem to recharge, though. The skies remained cloudless all day and the battery was back at full strength by midday.

Depending on the wind, we’re going to reach Crater City sometime in the next two or three days. Regardless of whether it’s night or day when we arrive, we’re gong to touch down close to one of the city gates. Sara isn’t worried about who sees us return. We’ll be okay as long as nobody knows where we’ve been, she said.

There’s a strange atmosphere on board now. Everyone seems lost in their own little worlds and I guess we’re all suffering a come down from the trip. Even Armbranch has little to say. All he wants to do is surf the Net and email Maya. I’m happy enough with this atmosphere. I spent the last few hours snoozing and listening to Bon Ivor’s latest album titled, oddly enough, ‘Bon Ivor’. It’s been a while since I listened to some new music and I’ve a bit of catching up to do. Other albums I’m looking forward to enjoying include Death Cab for Cutie’s ‘Codes and Keys’, Tom Waits ‘Bad as Me’, and Coldplay’s latest offering Mylo Xyloto.

I think those sounds will see me back to Crater City in style.

Maya’s doing well back home. No sign of any illness yet.

The storm drifted away during the night. I don’t know what time. When we awoke this morning it was nothing but a stain on the western horizon and the sky above was calm and bright and dappled with snow-white puffs of cloud. Birds were singing, too. And I’d swear I saw a small animal gambol through the trees about a hundred feet away shortly before the Maymen coaxed the balloon into the air and we took off.

The air up here is intoxicatingly fresh. I’ve been up top with Armbranch and Garigan most of the afternoon, leaning over the guardrails, relaxing, and looking down as we sail over the endless green swathe of the Shavlod. I thought I saw the Island Envelop a while back. Armbranch got excited, too. But, even if the vegetation was grim enough to be envelop vegetation, we were too high to recognise any specific landmarks.

Not that there were many identifying landmarks on that island to look out for. True, the riverbanks around the island did look a bit like black rock, but the only landmark that would have confirmed our suspicions without doubt was the black hole of the gateway leading to the demon world of Dalagoa. And I’m sure glad we didn’t see that. Nor did we ask Sara if we might drop lower to get a closer look. No. Even if Armbranch’s friend (or whatever he might refer to the Island Envelop Getinol as) is down there, I never want to get too close to that place again.

We had a pleasant surprise shortly after we left the island behind. A flock of small brown birds began skimming through the air around the balloon. A few even landed on the guardrail as if to get a closer look at us. I can’t be sure, but my instincts tell me they’re the same birds that followed us through the Shavlod so long ago. Armbranch agreed, said there was something about the way the stared at us that made him imagine they recognised us.

It’s night now. The birds disappeared with the sunset and I’m up top stargazing while I write. It’s beautiful.

I asked Kanar about that thunder last night. He told me it wasn’t thunder, but the voice of the storm. He figures it’s looking for something or someone. That’s why it was in this area. It’s looking for them and calling out to them. He had no idea what this something or someone might be, but he’s sure that we’re safe enough now as long as we don’t try to fly. The storm might crush us to pieces without even realising it.

The only things allowed into the air are Sara’s insect scouts. They’ve been coming and going at a frantic pace all day. At first I thought they were simply darting up to keep tabs on the storm. After a while, though, I noticed some of them had small leather sacs attached to their abdomens. Sara was gathering up these sacs and storing them in a wooden box. Taking samples. That’s what she was doing. Taking samples of the storm.

Somehow that doesn’t seem right to me.

But what can I do about it. Nothing. All I can do is go along with them. Armbranch agreed when I asked his opinion. Thought he’s edgy, too, he’s also studying the storm and especially the effects its passing has on the forest.

I bought some new albums when I was at home and I spent several hours up top this afternoon just lying on my back, listening to music, and watching the storm drift past overhead. One album I’m hooked on right now is Barton Hollow by The Civil Wars. Listening to that blend of country and folk music, while looking up at the storm, took me away from the gondola and gave me the surreal experience that I was actually the one in the sky and the world below was covered in a sea of tranquil brown that rolled lazily past.

I’m not fooled by the storm’s tranquillity. I can sense a power within it that terrifies me. What this experience has taught me, though, is that the living storms of the Parawerthan have their own personalities and moods. Not all of them are dangerous—or at least not dangerous all the time.

It’s nice to know.

The Brown Storm woke up today. It’s right over us now—or at least enough of it to darken the sky. Strangely, though, the round ball of the sun was visible through it for much of the afternoon. Barely visible, but visible nonetheless. This made me feel slightly better about the whole thing, made it easier to think that this thing is a cloud mass instead of a living entity.

And it is alive. Though the forest is as silent as a dream, the mass of cloud above us heaves and swirls about like some great, dirty breath. There’s fire within it, too, long jagged tongues of fire that curl ever so gracefully along the perimeter of the main mass as if tasting the reality beyond its borders. A dull red glow is visible within it many miles to the west. The heart of the storm, Kanar said.

At times this afternoon I thought I heard a distant, booming voice. But it could as well have been distant thunder.

There’s no visible threat from this thing.

Time now to write to Maya. She wasn’t feeling very well this morning, but it was more out of worry for my current situation than any physical ailment. I don’t blame her for worrying. If our roles were reversed I’d be worried sick, too. Somehow I’ve got to find the right words to describe how really ‘unthreatening’ the Brown Storm is. To be honest I’m starting to feel privileged at being so close to it. It’s like watching some great nebula sailing over our heads.

I think she’d love this experience.

I can hear that thundery sound again off in the distance. At times it really does sound like a voice.

We crashed last night. Well, I guess it wasn’t really a crash, but a slow and unexpected deflation that took the balloon down into dense forest. The air pressure changed, and it somehow lowered the pressure of the gas in the balloon. After we’d dropped out of Kotat we were making a slow pass due east of the Brown Storm when everything became very, very still. It was like we were being drawn into some kind of semi-vacuum because it was hard to breathe properly for a while. Before we realised what was happening, the balloon’s envelope sagged and down we went.

But at least Sara or Kanar don’t suspect it was a deliberate attempt by the storm to down us. No. This type of weather behaviour is known along the fringes of brown storms. What puzzles me is why they decided to go so close if they knew what would happen. Deep down, I suspect this was their intention all along. The fringes of the Brown Storm darken the sky above us now. But the Cadavat team aren’t alarmed—not openly anyway. After advising Armbranch and I that it was too dangerous to leave the gondola, Sara and Kanar spent much of today outside. I don’t know what they were doing. All I know is that they left with several large boxes and returned empty handed.

I wish the Maymen were as cool. There was a bitter argument between Sara and the Mayman pilot this morning. Though I couldn’t understand a word they were saying, it wasn’t hard to figure out what it was about. Kanar confirmed my suspicious later when he said the Maymen wanted to leave the area immediately before the bulk of the storm passed over. Sara refused. And to make it even worse, Kanar admitted that we weren’t actually stranded here. The Maymen had the resources to raise the balloon if required. It was Sara’s decision to stay.

I don’t know what she offered or threatened the Mayman with, but they’re a lot more accepting of our situation now.

The Cadavat want to study the storm. Kanar didn’t admit this, but I saw it in his eyes, a wild curiosity that gave me goose bumps. And as the darkness grows deeper around us, I can’t help thinking about the Black Storm that pursued us along the Marator Shores. This one, though, isn’t as violent. In fact there’s hardly a breath of a breeze in the air. Whenever I look up it’s easy to imagine the thing is asleep and just drifting along.

Laptops gone crazy. Everything’s dark. We’re near the storm. Dropped out of the Kotet last night and it’s like the storm has been sucking us towards it all day. I don’t know if . . .

We made steady progress north last night. There appears to be numerous air currents at different heights crisscrossing the Parawerthan. The one we jumped onto last night is called the Kotat Flow. (Named after some Mayman entity, although Garigan told me that different peoples have different names for it.) It’s not as powerful as the Cuppow, but it’s carrying us along nicely. The Brown Storm is clearly visible ahead. The sky is dark and the storm’s peripheral threads look like tentacles. Sara says we’ll drop out of the Kotat sometime during the night and cruise east to see if we can get a better look at what’s going on at ground level.

Can’t say I’m thrilled about that plan. Can’t do much about it, though. And whatever’s going on down there isn’t good. All morning we’ve seen evidence of an evacuation below. The few roadways through the forest are crammed with people, carts, and herds of livestock all moving south. But at least it looks like an orderly evacuation. Mounted soldiers patrol the columns to keep them moving. When a cart breaks an axle or wheel, it gets shunted off the road. Likewise with the animals. Barely ten minutes ago I saw a lame horse being led into the trees and put out of its misery.

Not many of the evacuees have the time to look up. I’m glad. The few who did see us stopped to watch us pass and I doubt those riders would take kindly to such behaviour. They can’t harm us. No. We’re much too high for that. It’s the people I’m worried about. I hope none of them suffer on our account.

What’s even more unsettling is how empty the forest looks. We haven’t seen as much as a bird since dawn and it looks completely still.

I’m going to sign off now. I don’t know if it’s anything to do with the Brown Storm, but I’ve been getting sporadic on screen interference since this morning. Though I’ve got a backup laptop with me now I don’t want to risk anything happening to this one.

Slept for almost fifteen hours yesterday. I guess I probably need another fifteen hours tonight because I still feel drained, both emotionally and physically. It’s the price I need to pay for my home visit, I suppose—or at least part of the price. I’m trying very hard not to think about what awaits me back in Crater City. It’s impossible. The shadow of the witch’s lair darkens my every thought.

That shadow grows longer and deeper the closer we get to Crater City.

But at least we won’t get there too quickly. Threads of the Brown Storm are still visible in the northern sky and the Cadavat team are curious about it. Sara wants to get a closer look to see what’s going on there. I don’t like the idea. But I’m not going to complain. These guys know what they’re doing and, to be honest, I’m curious too. It might also serve as a great distraction to stop me thinking about home.

Maya’s settled into the Mill House now. She keeps talking about our time together, keeps reminding me that we did the right thing the other night regardless of the consequences. We both needed that closeness, she said. She’s right. We did both need it. Yet, if she does fall ill with Drague Fever I doubt I’ll ever be able to forgive myself. She’s suffered more than enough because of my actions already. I also think she deserves to be with me in Crater City. As soon as we get back there I’m going to start working on Sara to arrange a permanent Circleweb for my wife.

Maya, Armbranch, and I. I think we’d make a great investigative team.

Speaking of Armbranch, I guess I’d better hand the laptop over to him and let him email Maya. He’s been annoying me for the past hour about it, says he has to give her some new ideas he has about his Facebook page. I’m glad they didn’t have the time to set this page up when we were home. It lets Maya focus on something now we’re gone.

The trip home is finally catching up with me. I’m exhausted today. Absolutely wrecked. I can barely type or read the screen. Bye bye for now.

Sailing over this seemingly endless jungle. I spent much of today just looking down at the forest, wondering what lay beneath the canopy, and wondering what might happen if the balloon crashed.

Would I be able to find my way back to the Envelop Gateway? Could I safely pass through it?

I doubt it. But it was nice to fantasize for a while.

It was also nice to go through all the new supplies I’m returning to Crater City with. Maya packed my bags with gifts. Clothes, mostly. All weather waterproofs and plenty of functional t-shirts, socks, and underwear. The others gave me gifts, too. Food, more clothes, and 300 shotgun shells from O’Heir. Justin gave me two plastic 2 Litre Coke bottles full of nothing but sweet, Irish country air. He said that whenever I got homesick I could open one up and take a breather of home. I thought it was a great idea—especially since I didn’t get to taste the air back home properly due to the spell—though I doubt that it could be any fresher than the unpolluted Parawerthan air.

Despite these pleasant little distractions, I’m consumed by thoughts of home. And I’m not the only one that’s fed up here. Naturally, Armbranch is down, too. He’s had to suffer the double loss of both the Gateway Envelop and our world. It’s the mood of the others, though, that surprises me. All of them, even Nokan who wasn’t through the gateway, are glum and quiet, like they were returning from a very unique holiday. It was no holiday for anyone, of course. And if Kanar hadn’t admitted they missed our world and my friends, I’d have imagined they were all simply exhausted from trying to assimilate so many new things in such a short space of time.

The only bit of life about the gondola comes from the Maymen who hum a lot to themselves and seem happy to be returning home.

We’re sailing over the fringes of the Shavlod now. The air is warm and fresh and we’re skimming over a particularly lush body of forest. The trees below are big and leafy and scatter the dying rays of sunlight about like flames. It’s beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. Despite this beauty, however, I’m still sad and lonely and not looking forward to the coming trials within the Parawerthan. But I’m very, very thankful that nothing went too wrong during out trip home. We all learned a lot during that time, and I’m heartened by the fact that we’ll be returning there again soon.

And, most importantly of all, I got to hold and kiss my wife.

So we’re on our way back to Crater City. It’s hard to believe the home visit passed so quickly. To be honest, at times it’s even harder to believe it ever happened at all.

Maya’s moved into the mill house already. The others spent yesterday bringing her things to make the place more comfortable, but she refused to let any of them enter it. It’s going to be tough on her living in seclusion there. I partly blame myself for that. If I’d resisted temptation and hadn’t passed through the gateway the other night, she’d be back in Singleton with the others right now, probably talking about the Parawerthan and wondering what the visitors thought of our world. At least she has Internet connections and she might finally get to practice some painting. I suggested she do one of Armbranch and we can give it to him the next time we’re back. In turn, she suggested that I do some sketches of the Parawerthan, and especially Crater City, to show her when we meet again.

Nice idea. But I’ve never had much of an eye for drawing. My creations might just as well scare them away instead of filling their eyes with wonder. Besides, if I were to attempt any drawings right now, I’d fill the pages with black to perfectly express my mood.

But at least Maya will never get cold in the Mill House. Armbranch gives her a Fire Stick as a parting gift yesterday morning. It’s not much to look at, just a two foot long black branch topped with a stubby knuckle of timber marking where it had once been attached to a tree. The magic of this gift came when the knuckle end was left sitting in an open fire for a few minutes. It didn’t burn, didn’t even heat up. But when that knuckle was pressed against the veins of a human wrist, the heat stored deep within it passed into the bloodstream and quickly spread throughout the body.

He told her it would come in especially useful if she ever went to those ‘Cold Places’, as he called the ice caps. I don’t think she needs to go that far to test it out. Ireland can get cold and damp enough—even during summer.

An instant body warmer. It summarises the vast differences between our worlds. It’s probably a commonplace thing in any Parawerthan household. In our world, though, it could revolutionise the lives of millions if it were ever developed

It could also attract a lot of unwanted attention.

Back in the air, back sailing over the Shavlod. The gateway’s far behind us now, and I haven’t looked back once. It was bad enough having to say goodbye to everyone without giving those memories added life by looking back and thinking about the visit. I don’t want to think about it now. I don’t want to think about anything now.