0410: There are gaps in Marina's works that required some input, and it was realized that this part came from me. I recall her asking me random math questions as she learned to do calculations and code them into her projects. The random questions she would ask were things she drew on a board, and I was to solve the other half. At one point, we would just post each other's halves, like we were trying to complete a chess game. Her side was artistic and visual, while mine had numbers and words that I eventually put in sequence in a visual and artistic way—text art. Later, it was discovered these were used to feed certain projects. In those days, I thought we were just playing a game, thinking I was just a dad helping with homework. To this day, I can't do public math, although I can sometimes arrive at a number that naturally equates to the answer. A few months before leaving for my new assignment, we attended a master class together from a man named John Kwik. Many of the methods we used resembled what he taught, although he may have been doing this for longer—his entire life. Marina said out of the blue his conference was in town, and he had visited her university.
0347: One day, she confessed she couldn’t manage alone—juggling school and her aspirations, unable to pause her life. The echo of those words triggered deep emotions within me: "I'm putting her up for adoption," "I need someone, I can't do this by myself," and "please just go." She didn’t want anyone to know; while planning the adoption, she clung to me. The day she revealed she could no longer be with men, I felt she didn’t want to project that resentment onto me. I felt a mix of heat and cold, countered by opposing compromises. I switched from day to night classes, tiring myself but seeking new forms of energy. I found a flexible job at a bowling alley, where coworkers had similar family scenarios. I sought advice without asking, learning from others’ lives. The light and resonance of people around me offered hope. Part of me wanted this to work out—it did, in an unconventional way, requiring much sacrifice. In the end, it seemed a mutual sacrifice. Though everything was lost on one side of the coin, it stood as an artifact of our efforts—a symbol for future generations. This coin whispers the names of those saved by a fisher of men and women who were lost or voiceless, continuing their lives to save others seeking to live.
0310:As I read from the terminal, a familiar, deep-seated voice echoes within me, a guttural resonance akin to a throat singer from mountainous tribes, like Bai Terek, a musician who could produce multiple notes in one breath. I, too, found I could achieve this in a state of utmost calm. The "dragon" voice seems to speak through me, particularly when I replay recordings of myself alone. This documentation is essential for the medical team providing a second opinion on my diagnosis. My once vast vocabulary now seems elusive, making tasks slow and deliberate, much like the gradual acceleration of my car. I apologize to those who tailgate me, as the laws of physics prevent us from merging. Phase shifting has never been my forte, unless it happened without my notice. The report notes my prolonged sleeplessness, over a year now, impacting my memory and focus. However, the dragon within advises me to feel the words rather than merely recognize them. This realization brings a surge of energy, contained and resonating within me, like a car's engine or a generator. Technology flickers around me, subtly affected by what whimsical clients over the years have dubbed "gremlins." Yet, when I arrive, things inexplicably start working, perhaps frightened by the presence of a dragon (haha).
