Bomber jacket and a snapback...

Bad, or good, as it happens to be, that is what it is to exist! It is as though he has been silent and fuddled with sleep all his life. In spite of all, he knows now that at least it is better to go always towards the summer, towards those burning seas of light; to sit at night in the forecastle lost in an unfamiliar dream, when the spirit becomes filled with stars, instead of wounds, and good and compassionate and tender. To sail into an unknown spring, or receive one's baptism on storm's promontory, where the solitary albatross heels over in the gale, and at last come to land. To know the earth under one's foot and go, in wild delight, ways where there is water.

After all these years I still had the impulse, every so often, to find a new home. Spaces became too familiar, too elastic, too accommodating. Boredom and exasperation would set in. And though of course nothing really changed from one roof to another, I liked to harbour the illusion that small variations occurred within, that with each move something was being renewed. For if there is happiness tucked away in my tragedies, I'll find it no matter what. If the blind can find joy in music, and the deaf can discover it with colours, I will do my best to always find the sun in the darkness because my life isn't one sad ending - it's a series of endless happy beginnings.