ibrahim wrote this on my window, almost seven years ago. for seven years, i would look at this. i would sometimes smile, sometimes hate it - sometimes think he's nuts, it's nuts, we're nuts for believing it - sometimes. it would come and go, looking at the window - ideas, more ideas, most undone, most forgotten, but some done, some under construction and going-to-be-done, via the obsessive person that i am - tomorrow, very clearly, needs to be mine. for it's own's sake.