Depression is like erosion. The changes are slow, imperceptible at first. And then mountains begin to fall. Great cliffs crumble exposing the devastation, the charred inside of a tormented mind; gaping black holes and jagged edges as sharp as blades. Soft entrails calcified into rock. Depression is like erosion. It leaves nothing behind, only deep trails of tears, like empty riverbeds. And you have lost the map leading to fresh water. All you can do is sit by the dry gully and listen to the Lari cry.