"Freedom is the freedom to say: 2 + 2 = 4." -Winston, 1984

Have I ever laughed at the sorrowful brow? A ping of pain, and I step outside of this building. Rain now. Falling like a mist rolled hill. I see them fall from the Heaven's down to Earth. There I stand, mouth gaping wide, neck stoved way back, and my eyes, squinting at the sun. I see the drop which lands in my mouth; that causes me to close it. Mmmm. Running down my spine. Cool warth glows like never before. "Ground Control to Major Tom." Bobbing in a swaying groove, you knew that there would be more. I tap ginger. Cranberry. Lemon and Honey. Bottoms up, the brew is hot.