Here we are in the Nether realms chained to a donkey called freedom...
Tread ever more lightly on these waters of delusion. Every firm footing wishes to grab your feet longer than its due. Every new shred of manufactured freedom has a skeric of truth in its vein. Extracting the value then moving on, ever more frequently seems to be the hard honour of the day. Look, look looky it's happening over here, no wait it's changed it's happening over there.
Puddles are deep pits and lakes are shallow ponds. Walking water requires a discernment of truth not a feat of physicality.
Find me screaming somewhere on the streets of the nether lands today. Deep in the darkened realm of established freedom.
May magic happen again and again and again...