Raindrops

I have said, again and again, that paths are never fixed, like rivers. Rivers change their courses all the time, with each sip of tea that you take, there, here. I have said, time and again, that real answers are incomplete ones, unfinished, and always needing work. Otherwise, they would all be lies, flat lies. Have I stressed, over and over, the importance and the difficulty of solitude, of remaining aloof enough so that you can exist, regardless of whether people see you or not.