Not all who wander are lost.

On Tennessee Williams:

"It is lost souls that preoccupy him, the people whose sensitivity condemns them to total disappointment. The rude bluffness of living which destroys them is the same harshness that hurts or toughens everybody."

This is for some of you out there, you who live in these echoing lines.

There may be smoke in your eyes, but the windmill turns all the same. The reds will grow silent, the blues will go weary, the greys will fade, the blacks will fall into a whisper, the whites will just be- all things come to pass.

Go with peace, a day at a stride.