Winter rain, now tell me why, Summers fade, and roses die. The answer came; the wind and rain. Golden hills, now veiled in grey, Summer leaves have blown away Now what remains? The wind and rain. — Weather Report Suite, The Grateful Dead I’ve felt this before. The disorientation, the tumbling, not knowing which way is up. The rules that appeared to govern the world torn asunder; scattered, fluttering to the ground. The feeling okay one moment, the tears the next. The uncert