I see people all around me. Not knowing them and only seeing them, engulfed in myself and my own trial I see them. Unable or unwilling to face the difficulty ahead of them and cowering, passing time in impossibly tight spots, hot and stuffy so that it is unsustainable. This is the language of the ecology and the environment and I am more likely embroiled in economics, social strata and speech patterns, sociology, violence, reflection and meditation. Consumed now and wrapped up, ensnared in my self, struggling to own a thought or a thing I make judgements and accusations, make my body bigger and never stop to taste or touch or see or smell, enjoy it. This is my gift then, and the world to me. I am not in a hurry, owe nothing and own nothing, a spirit moved through, clairvoyant and tenuously gripping to a piece of a thought that jarred my conscious some minutes ago. plagued by questions and hurrying I lose my grip and remind myself of my greatness. It is reflecting off the raindrops on my window, the air that blows from my window fan and cools my room, sweeps the masculine stink away from my nostrils so I can at least smell at ease. This is not a journal, this is eternal. Affluent flatulent, stinky rich.