Reflections on Time Spent in a ConeVision restricted, and I can’t lick what itches and the world is terrible. Frustration leads to low grumbling and I blunder into furniture. Woman and Man are deaf to my soft whines of woe: patient love tested. Finally, I sigh in resignation to my term in cone prison. Then, I sigh again in case they didn’t hear me. Miserable boredom.