Reaping my harvest, planting new seeds...

All too often he feels separated and cut off from the world around him. Like an alien that fell from the sky. There were a few occasions, though, where he felt like the world really was a part of him. As if they were breathing as one and he so clearly saw into its core. He hopes he'll have that feeling again, and that next time it won't go away. That's a dim, misty outline of the story that's told so often, of how man once lived in a golden age or a garden of Eden ... how that world was lost, and how we some day may be able to get it back again. This story of the loss and regaining of identity is, perhaps, the framework of this thing that is not a blog.