I would peer out the window, and fumble with the seatbelt. Every morning would anticipate seeing the local, crazy, homeless man shouting at himself. I hid safely beyond sight, behind the brim of the backseat window of the family Volvo station wagon. I believed he was mad, dangerous, sick, and lost. Navigating dusty desert highways of his thoughts mapless. Speaking a language foreign to the rest of the world.

Years later, I am wet from the constant rain of unsolved answers. I have more immediate issues to deal with. But my mind drifts. I crave is to learn this unknown language. To cast aside those basic things that hold us back. I think he fell into the dark hole of the mind intentionally. A mysterious power lies in living in the fringe thought. Life amongst the lunatics and tyrants, trying to mentally grasp something larger most people don’t see, or are not smart enough to solve.

The puzzle cannot solve itself, it can only be a puzzle. You must leave the problem to see the solution. When everything is in order, the mind can put that last piece in place, and the world will bloom with magnificent brilliance.

Until then we will live, but slowly decompose, the whole world falling apart.