race against time to create a tempest out of nothing but thin air. power thrumming through fingertips, chipping away at irksome problems. hammer at the door energy explodes; glass swirls across the smooth floor.
months creep by faster time is racing on ahead: catch up if you can. a hollow room is full of emptiness - when was anyone last here? there's an eerie tone to the air: it waits, old and uncirculated.