dreams and the endless

i promised that i'd write on experiential marketing.

instead, i'll write on the sweet, seemingly endless sleep of hashish- it's an experience to be cherished, especially since sleep in otherwise normal circumstances is a fleeting, furitive presence.

add to that the heat waves that linger when the summer sun is long gone, the sweat streaming from my body and the lack of desire for anything worth living for.

i realise now, though, that writing about a hash trip ruins the very foundations it stands on... it's an esoteric bond between the individual and the endless. i don't know and i won't comment on who is worthy of it, what the best hash is or why it is taboo.

all i know is that i long to bow down to the endless and get enveloped in parvati's womb. over and over and over again. for the dreams of hashish are the elements of the endless.