A little noise of wisdom, a mere grin in the distance, that slight nod as our eyes align. I lean on some sort of silence and some sort of sticky guidance, trickling down my spine, shaking me violently, or then, wavering and subtle. All openings grow within, though not at my biding. Many life folds tag me, touch me, tremble deep inside of me. I howl and seek nature

, seek the city, solitude and distance, overflow of impression and offers, people, noise. I think now of that meadow in the maze of skyscrapers, popping blossoms bursting forth from the earthly bosom. The stark contrast attracts me. If I don’t find it, I fear emptiness and death. Is running away from stopping a longing to know I am still alive? What am I not meeting?