Yes, Dermott, every once in a while … like when my poetic license lapsed at long last leaving me lacking, lonely, and less alive. The fanciful form felt forged, fake and fraudulent, and I faced the fear of failure. But alas, my felonious faculties, which had fallen to the word-factory floor, were found, and now the future is full of fun, fame, and fortune. Finished! :-D