No Spring Nor Summer Beauty Hath Such Grace As I Have Seen In One Autumnal Face.

The wild is where you find it, not in some distant world relegated to a nostalgic past or an idealized future; its presence is not black or white, bad or good, corrupted or innocent... We are of that nature, not apart from it. We survive because of it, not instead of it.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more”

Lord Byron

We are not lonely, because we chose to be alone. We are not lost, because we chose to disappear.

The words with which a child’s heart is poisoned, whether through malice or through ignorance, remain branded in his memory, and sooner or later they burn his soul.

Carlos Ruiz Zafón, The Shadow of the Wind

"Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not Today. Good morning! But please come to tea – any time you like! Why not tomorrow? Good bye!" 

Each day is born with a sunrise and ends in a sunset, the same way we open our eyes to see the light, and close them to hear the dark. You have no control over how your story begins or ends. But by now, you should know that all things have an ending. Every spark returns to darkness. Every sound returns to silence. And every flower returns to sleep with the earth. The journey of the sun and moon is predictable. But yours, is your ultimate ART.

There is an ancient conversation going on between mosses and rocks, poetry to be sure. About light and shadow and the drift of continents. This is what has been called the dialect of moss on stone - an interface of immensity and minute ness, of past and present, softness and hardness, stillness and vibrancy, yin and yang.

Birds are not meant to be caged, that's all. Their feathers are too bright, their songs too sweet and wild. So you let them go, or when you open the cage to feed them they somehow fly out past you. And the part of you that knows it was wrong to imprison them in the first place rejoices, but still, the place where you live is that much more drab and empty for their departure.

Cranes... bid farewell to them always touches me deep in my heart.

So many feelings.

Pure joy, to hear their striking, distinctive call.

Melancholy, to see them moving away again.

Hope, to see them again next year.

Desire, to go with them.

Humbleness, for the creation of Mother Nature.

Love, because these creatures are simply magnificent.

So many thoughts.

Inseparably connected with their migration in autumn is that winter is coming, as well as their return in spring is carrying the promise of summer.

The Wheel of time.

Endings and new beginnings. 

Life.

How do you feel about?

Side? I am on nobody's side, because nobody is on my side, little orc.