A man once stood by a tree and started counting leaves. He could not finish counting because of his repeated mistakes. I saw him and I cried. I wanted to ask him why he was doing this endless count. But I lost my track towards him. He was there but I could not reach him. Then, I decided to forget about him. Why should I tell him what I know?
But I was so wrong. I should have found a way. His time is my time. His moments are human moments. And my surrendering to destiny was worth nothing.
Later in the day, a boy was running around my head. I told him to stop running anticlockwise because he should not run against the clock. He laughed at me, which made me laugh at myself. The days of wisdom are washed from every surface. It was a day where everything I do or say seemed wrong.
I shall return home. My home is where my music is. My music is not easy to understand. But my music will understand me.