A longing to wander tears his heart when he hears trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one's suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the one who raised you, for new metaphors for life. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is a new beginning.
