My mind is tumbling through a desert somehow ripe with possibilities. But it is tumbling nonetheless.
The new Doctor Who episode made my brain explode in an awesome way. Then I had some downtime and decided to pick A Brave New World by Aldous Huxley up again and continue my re-reading of it (for probably the dozenth time), as I’ve been getting toward the climax of the book, and it was beautiful and insightful and my brain was still swirling with paradoxical thinking from Doctor Who and when I put the book down, the spinning didn’t stop, it just evolved. Time travel and distortion and Shakespeare and rose petals and books and sin and struggle and humanity, Tarot cards and endings and the kobayashi maru and fixed points and destiny and faith and God and life and death and conceptual mathematics.
I don’t think the brain was intended to run this fast. It’s why there’s never been a human and Time Lord metacrisis before Donna: because there can’t be.