Once more we're down to last things. It's been a while.  But the metaphors are always notable...  Last visit to this museum or that restaurant or the other park.  The one we haven't been to in ages.  Or dozens of other places.  Or people not to be seen again.  Most likely. The odds are highly unlikely.  Last things and so discard, the game is ending.  The next place?  We have it mapped out.  Sketches are in the making.  The paper work is under way.  The possibilities of work are under discussion.   In the meantime, I'm having to take up the spots.  Do the unmemorizing that's required.  Put all that in the cloud.  As it were.  Above all, delete! Everything, and then imagine it's like trying to get the little blue digits off the inside of our arm.  That voodo you do so well.  Smoke gets in your eyes, that kind of thing.