Dots upon dots upon dots of patient fretwork. A persistent fight in the hope that all the d** that you are not taking are not limiting your potential. Your potential, as you contemplate the balance you have set between the moral high-ground that you occupy and the depths of creativity into which you have not plunged. But, of course you can think too much, I've always told myself. And, of course, I worry myself over some imagined lack of freedom, I have imposed upon myself, fully aware that it is ridiculous in this context.