‘I’m sorry, I don’t know you, and I’m not going to start a conversation with you.’

I’m not expecting anyone to extricate myself from diving into a pot of sentimental soup. I like soup. The game of extricating chairs will always leave you in the cold. I don’t like games.

When I have a fixed idea that I want to take into reality I may think I had begun realizing it on a specific day, or even hour, or in the very moment I revealed the wording from my unconscious. The fact is that I may very well be already in the middle of making that idea happen before I realize of its beginnings. I think the point is in taking it to a place of arrival, regardless of when or where it departed from. I believe things may have an end, but they have no beginning.

No expectations.

When I think I’m experiencing the first moments of relief after a long period of worry, I begin to worry about the ending of that relief period.