I have rooted myself into this quiet place where I don’t need much to get by. I need my visions. Furthermore, I need my books. Furthermore, I need new thoughts and lessons, from older souls, bars, whiskey, libraries; different ones in different towns. Furthermore, I need my music. Furthermore, I need my songs. Furthermore, I need the safety of somewhere to rest my head at night, when my eyes get heavy. And I need space. Lots of space. To run, and sing, and change around in any way I please—outer or inner—and I need to love. I need the space to love ideas and thoughts; creations and people—anywhere I can find—and I need the peace of mind to understand it.
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