It's like a thirst, a most strange longing for something. It's an internal hunger for an undefined element. Like maybe taking a dive into someone else's thoughts. Maybe dare to jump and take the plunge into your own waters. Into the infinite strangeness of the self. I watch the woods fret under the incredibly calm summer breeze and a gentle movement inside of me whispers somethings in a cryptic language. It's as if I attempt to transgress my own deafness, my own inability to grab that whisper. But I listen to it and I can almost hear it and it warms my heart in the mysterious ways. Yes, it's the cool of the evening and trees and flowers take on an orange sunsety glow before the brightest star slowly glides into its habitual retreating motions. And it is this kind of moments that unfold the untold story of humankind from the very beginning up to the present times. It's all there in that seemingly small bit of the day. Birth, love, death, whispers in the cool of the evening. A day and the humankind.
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