“I am searching for something and I think if I write down all my thoughts, I can search the puddle of it all and find a thing—an idea, perhaps—that I believe in and that would consume me so.”


The shadows grow longer and the grey clouds journey home
And now the madman seeks the sanity of privacy
Gingerly, he gathers his belongings
And abandons his perch at the market’s T-junction
Giddily, he falls in step with us