Spins and turns, angles and curves, the shape of dreams half-remembered slip the surly bonds of earth and touch the face of perfection. A perfect face, a perfect lace, find a perfect world for the end of Kara Thrace. End of line.
Talking of perfection, perfect Cylon gibberish that is. Or should I call it poetry instead? Bah! Rebel basestar’s Hybrid’s incoherent talk was the only interesting thing in the final series though. Glad that this bullshit will be over next week by now.
Postscript: Supposed to post that one in mid-March after watching Daybreak Part I—the first part of the series finale of Battlestar Galactica. Watching the last episode after quite sometime assured me that I was perfectly right after all. It was a big waste of time.
