I sat in the Region of Dis-Similarity, on the edge of the river F______ until the Reader, sensing I was aging and on the verge of giving up from fatigue and lost morale, materialized in my brain looking for me. And I suspected at that moment the Reader was my prodigal birth-mother who had like a stray thought abandoned me years ago to my own degradations, chance-offerings, and a story I was unequipped to tell by other means, and who now, imagining herself a suitable replacement, returned to supplement where I left off.