A couple of years ago, when I moved to Canada, I decided to destroy everything and build it all up again. I didn’t actually destroy everything, and I didn’t actually build it all up. I’m still me. But everything looks new. Mentally, I’ve become an infant. And it’s amazing, sitting at the park, watching the ducks and pigeons. Even a real infant came to check out the ducks, and she smiled at me and I smiled at her, but only once because more would be too many. Then she disturbed the ducks’ peace by chasing a couple of them, just as I wished I could show her how to sit still and let them get close to her.
The noise of humanity is too much, its insanity, its evil. But life is grand, and there is a breeze, which is a gift. Faces are so pretty. And peace does exist sometimes, though we are animals fighting like little shits. When we frown, and go deep into the darkness, hating and hating. But the breeze takes us somewhere different, where reality is sincere. It feels cold inside me sometimes, but when it encompasses me, I’ll become one with the world.