Where we fail to find an anchor in meaning. Where we lose the function of purpose. A space where untethered feeling happens to die. The urges we just won’t understand. Defying in their grasp. And bewildering in their intangibility. An impulse in the stain of the Heavy Resin. Mashed with oats. Dosed with loads of Incognito and Cryo in the whirlpool. Double dry-hopped with hand-selected Mosaic, Simcoe, Idaho 7, a dose of Aussie Eclipse, and a punch of our house Cryo blend.