Love. The black hook. The spear singing through the mind.
Money helps, though not so much as you think when you don't have it.
Numbers, time, inches, feet. All are just ploys for cutting nature down to size.
The length of sky is just about the size of my ignorance. Pure and wide.
Our songs travel the earth. We sing to one another. Not a single note is ever lost and no song is original. They all come from the same place and go back to a time when only the stones howled.
You know, some people fall right through the hole in their lives. Its invisible, but they come to it after time, never knowing where.