What is the appearance of vacuoles?

Seriously, my auto-fill came up with this??? Seriously?

So, you may have realized I'm not actually going to talk to you about the appearance of vacuoles, but instead beg your forgiveness for the constant streams of pictures and comic strips instead of rants and stuff.

As I may have mentioned, we're leaving for England in about 13 days and so I'm sorta preoccupied with sorting and packing and everything, but I've put aside a little time tonight to talk, as I'm actually feeling in a kinda serious mood tonight.

Nothing bad I guess, just slightly somber, a little weary, the sort of heavy soul-sighing mood where one feels lazy and unmotivated and the only way to deal with it is to ramble on, and on, or perhaps write a poem, or amuse oneself with Shakespearian wordplay, forsooth!

So, I can't bring myself to put pen to paper right this instant, but I feel I've rambled sufficiently to find in myself the energy to find and post a haiku of mine, adapted from one written when I was a young boy, my father, took me into the city, to see a marching band... er child of fourteen, the only time I remember struggling to confine my art to such a constrained format.

But here you go:

Beaten and scarred, alone

She gazes, weeping, Westward.

Her home is no more.