As the distant quasar radioed "Come on in and have a piece of PI". I looked at those rocks undisturbed by dust devils and wondered if the color correction chart was applied. A hundred million is dear for a post card I scan the dust and offer a wayward Pegasian a wrench. Though the ship is huge it noticed the datum and took time from its survey mission to consider life here as unintelligent. As the prime numbers continue to stream by I can only think about the branches in my palm. Too many. They suggest madness in their divergance.