Slow reincarnation, making book shelves with lengths of rough wood, harvesting seventy-one heads of garlic planted last October, drinking green or red tea. See where I got in those long years: a long road, I must have had a clear plan from the word go, and sometimes these days I allow myself a glimpse at it, 6B pencil in hand.
I have by now touched all the edges so that fear will probably never again be able to take hold of me or my life. My life that could, I’m sure, be described as a list of tragic failures has in fact succeeded in bringing me into complete peace with myself. What else could I have been striving for ? I am now ready for more chapters, endeavouring to sing and dance with the soil, with time to sit and read, and time to sit and write, and time to sit and listen. I am here and I won’t forget to breathe. Don’t either.