I turned the page and will never forget what I then saw.

The fountain pen scratched against the paper, whistling like fur on an abandoned tire in the
middle of the night at the centre of the universe in the core of whatever it is I’m trying to believe.
I am a patient human and I live and breathe. I know this for sure.

I read about a whispering stillness of the Stadsnacht as my blood levels gradually even out again. Beneath the ink, the words take shape. This is a secret correspondence with the Book of Change – a dialogue not meant for eyes or ears, but for the soul. Are you still with me?

The Snake Rope tightens, its Coils Dive into the deep well of patience, where waiting is an art, a
dance with the unseen. The Scientists Say we should measure, predict, contain—but here, in
the shadow of the deepest of nights, the only truth is the Celebration of Ignorance. Love is the
force that binds as it untangles the invisible thread that refuses to sever. The next page quotes the mystical figure Daim: “Never Dissever Us.”

There, in the dawning light, the Dageraad reveals the Icequeen in her frigid throne, the Topiary Man standing guard in his sculpted silence. In this quiet landscape, I wait. I continue to wait, for I have good fortune on my very hands.

If You Won’t, I Will.

Can we exhibit the power to possess conformity? Can we redeem the benefits of crossing the water? Yes. The choice, the act of breaking through the barrier of convenience, is both a burden and a liberation.The words swirl, abstract and concrete, like action and inaction. The Book of Change is a paradox to puzzle over.

The evening cool rests its shoulders on my fluffy neck. I inhale as my pen lifts itself from the
paper once more, shedding ink as though it were tears of joy. I know that I have touched the
edge of something vast, something that moves beyond the grasp of reason into the heart of the
I Ching, the ever-turning wheel of change. This is the correct orientation. This is the vivid
imagery of clouds falling from the heavens and into our laps. This was never meant for your
ears. This was meant for you to feast on as the seasons bestow upon us