with great pain comes the great inability to form a coherent sentence
[ID: a 4-page comic in illuminated manuscript style of a person standing outside. /1: They look to the distance and say: “What is that dolorous cloud: that dreadful fright I see now on the dark horizon?” /2: They turn, upset, and say: “Alas! It is the brain fog approaching!” A purple cloud enters the panel. /3: They hold up their hands against the approaching cloud, saying: “A curse upon that fog that steals my eloquence. I…hate…it” /4: The cloud surrounds them and they say: “cloud”…“bad” /ID]
