The things we are told and the things we see as we're pulled from the ground like flowers, broken and beautiful, are so often are the things we become. Still what most of us seem to be searching for is love; this complex connection to another strange traveler. A wind that wakes us in the gloaming as the sun fades behind the hills and reminds us that some nights aren't meant to be slept through. To know another is to know a universe of others, and as I smolder here alone the words could not leave my fingertips fast enough. Sometimes a soul must wander to truly know it is home.