Turn the corner, it's a straight line from here. At the top of the hill, see the lights of the square where you live. Where you live. There is an apartment where your books lie piled. Here live Jack, and Henry, and Sylvia; that is home. A song in your head reminds you of a dentist chair and the feeling that it will be okay. You are not lost at sea and drifting.
The bar has turned into ours, into a place where you feel safe and soft and borders are erased because the walls will hold. The soundtrack is perfect, the bartender a friendly face. She says such kind words but you cannot hear them. You only hear your own critical words but no matter. In this short moment, this subdued light, you are safe.
I would not toil, and struggle, through poverty and worthless mind circles, through such storms and winters, if I did not believe in the Reason. I would not suffer for the Word, if I did not love it.
And that is all that matters.
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