duration: my coffee is gone.  duration: i must walk along to work.  to work and walk and talk some words that mean nothing to me really.  but i get along, along like the crunch, crunch of snow underfoot.  i have to learn to write again.  the muscles are weak with disuse.  faccid.  tired.  the coffee barely lingers behind my eyes, not even a smokey reminence that it ever existed.