The world doesn't speak plain fucking English, so I have no idea what it wants from me.
I can only live by figuring out what I want from the world.
I want the flow of continuity from the pool filter to run all day and at night too. That sound filters me like the water that runs through it. If darkness never arrived on any day, happiness would longer stay and I'd be overjoyed or freckled indefinitely.
I want to know the written word intimately. The way it defines and mirrors all that is known.
There isn't much I want, but I have lived long enough to know that wanting to be read, pains like something that longs to be dead.