Without ever leaving the confines of this my house in the alley I have found some bliss and have found in writing my tranquility yet still my relatives can't see what I see. I have but few answers, the ones that I do would rarely be seen as quick clever or new, they're all mostly poached from the texts old and wise – just wrapped up in modern and crumbling disguise. I've no one to prove to that my path is good that I am now doing exact as I should, that I am now living here in this far land without vast resources and with fewer plans. I'll let them keep puzzling about my game and keep on repeating the eternal name that sounds without hurry from window and sky that gives my dreams wings and allows them to fly.
© americanifesto / 場黑麥
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