By believing passionately in something that does not exist,
we create it.
The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.*

When I write, the pace of life slows and falls into a rhythm where I am more me than in, what is perceived to be, reality. Recently that Die was cast into my arena almost as if accusatory. Perhaps it is for this reason that I prefer the reflections of life. Where there is no struggle. Where the sequence flows regally into a stream of pebbles, across shards of sunlight, and the only sound that is heard is that of trickling water.

The spell of euphoria emits within an organized disorder in my world, and as I sit near the stream with squinted eyes into the sun, I see myself quite clearly. Mine is a dark, hidden sanctuary that I choose to share with only a few.

Those who ‘get me’ will see more and yearn for more. Those who do not, mustn’t even try. You either do or you don’t. I am not someone you can get to know.

Remember, it is only in the dark that we are able to see the stars.

*Franz Kafka

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