the ants haven’t been marching one by one, or anything like that. the ants haven’t been around in so long. they've been under this whole time. isn’t it about time for them to come out? i think so.... i hope so. i would like to see them again. is that selfish of me? is it selfish to have reveled in the moment when i saw the first ant of spring the other day? i was walking with someone, so i couldn’t stop and stare at it. i can’t be that autistic in public.... these people don’t know that side of me. they don’t know me like you do, anthill. you know me. i can always come back to you, and you will welcome me in,,,, you will accept anything iiiiiiii give to you, and it will become part of your structure. your construction. your integrity.... it will depend on this thing that i just threw inside of you on a whim. and it all depends—doesn’t it?—on the work of the ants. coming up for air when they need food, but otherwise spending their time digging and digging. it doesn’t matter what comes up. it goes in. it’s all the same. none of it can be separated, none can be taken away, and there is a very limited set of exclusion criteria for things that are fair game. that’s one thing about the anthill, isn’t it, how fair game everything is.... this right here is fair game. this is possibly the fairest the game gets.