It's been said that my freedom ends at the tip of your nose. Why that's been said is anybody's guess. Suffice it to say that if "you" are in Portugal, then my freedom is pretty damn all-encompassing. If "you", however, are all up in my face, then my freedom is very constricted. And what if "you" are invisible? That would be very stressful. But I have an ace in the hole. See those tiny dwarf people on the right? They are my minions, and they will mess you up. All I have to do is snap my fingers. I learned this from Uncle Joe, who is a homeless man who explained the facts of life to me. I leave you with this, from Bob Dylan, to ponder: are brides free from the chains of their skyways?

Holy cow! What a slip! That was supposed to be "birds", not "brides"! Don't know what to make of that. Nothing, I guess.