Is there anyone out there?
Or am i writing to myself?
Who knows?
Writing is just happening.
Reading these words is just happening.
Nobody is doing anything.
It is one movement.
Seamless.
No separation.
Happening at this moment .
Happening now.
The late afternoon sunlight dances in orange on the walls.
A tree pie calls out while my neighbour is hitting the keys
on the piano.
