This is just a picture, a pixel of words.
For whom do we long for and for whom are these blurbs?
Myself!
It’s the one thing that wants to emerge.
For you! It’s the one thing that keeps me encour’ged.
For them! It’s the grass on a shoulder of whistles, and though hast now understood the riddle.
How should we make sense of all this?
We do it all the time.
The world is complex, and we tend to seek novel moments.