Rain. Pours and cleans. Runs sheets of water across where you have been.

Failure reiterates that you will have to use it to make your next work more spectacular. Individuality at its best without the weight of others incompetence. You use to think that the mind gets broader but recently with your lack of words made you doubt.

Listening again on old tracks, brings back faces and all the foolish thoughts and experiments. I knew the disasters and how fleeting it will all be. So that I could write. I tested theories. Of thinking and not feeling. The unturned stones. The forest and the uncut trees. The phenomenon minimal days out of the three-hundred-sixty-five.