"Why am I not doing that?" I think - about so many things - when the truth is I'm busy, always have been, playing a game of my own devising, one that tries to make sense of myself while feeling alive and complete in each moment, an approach that demands as much emptiness as fullness, if not more.

And in truth, or true enough, or at least a momentarily plausible lie that holds up well to little scrutiny, things could never have been different.

I am what I am. A man made in pain, always seeking refuge or escape.