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I’ve been out of ideas lately. Emptied out as a result of witnessing storms taking over foreign lands without ever attempting to hover about my territory.

I’ve silently noted the kind of hardships many endure to simply understand clearly what it is they are about in a world where individuality is facilitated just long enough for it to finally be deemed futile, long before the fruits of this personal labor are ripe.

I’ve been too quiet because the roots of these trees have been hollow for too long and I, well… I was never the kind of person who likes to create roots in dry lands.

These lands, ladies and gentlemen, are dry.

These eyes are wandering but not close enough to see.

These caravans too well travelled to roll and what can I do but personally choose to avoid seeing? Nothing.

So I silence my guts, retrieve my patience and allow others time to see what I see, except I never learn people don’t learn by following examples: they learn by tripping and falling, faces flat on the pavement, noses crushed by their own weight.

People learn by being unique in their common search for themselves and as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing more liberating than finally concluding that I’m nothing but a common bird and my song may not beat Bach’s No. 1 but it’s a song alright, in spite of its ordinary arrangement.

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