ask me what I want, what would make me happy, and I will blabber some incoherent, existential gibberish. That my arrogant, incorrigible self refuses to make peace with life’s banal existence. Yet that is what I have been doing over the years. Slowly, gradually, unconsciously, consciously, I have been accepting everything and falling into the abyss. What never ceases is the constant longing for the unknown. A restlessness for the intangible. The desire to feel alive.