But the thing is, whether I make them or not, you’ll never know how deep I went. You’ll never even know I didn’t come back and add more later. You’ll never know I didn’t give someone instructions to edit this page after my death. You’ll never know I didn’t hide more secret pages off-site, didn’t imply in incredibly obtuse terminology that something else was elsewhere.

You can see patterns, but eventually you’ll just start seeing things that aren’t there. The pursuit of secrets is a wave that laps away at the shores of schizophrenia. Because if you want badly enough to find something, your brain will make something for you to find.

A frog is an in-between creature, leg-hop-wet-span, it slitherbounces indeterminate out of cold wet womb and beaches itself and immediately begins to decay. Frog is metaphor for that billion year crawl up from brine. Frog is evolution in place. Frog is lonely, frog is a masturbatory cloning machine. Frog Multiplications.