I am a rambling hippie. My mind is fickle, capricious, ever meandering unstructured mash-machine. It's amoebic nature takes a shape and form it desires and moves in all directions it can. It often reaches dead-ends, turns back and charts a new course. It doesn't always grope a subject to tortuous depths like an octopus on a hunt: wriggling it's tentacles to trap it's prey in the meanest and most inaccessible crevices at the bottom of the sea floor. My mind is rather like a butterfly sipping on the nectar from one flower and moving to the next attractive bud even before the sweet taste of the first has melted into it's consciousness.