When you look for me, you will find me on the fringes, there shadowed among the trees, with the fat evening moths silhouetted against the gradient sunset, turning myself slowly into the wind, immersing back into the substance of everything; for only there I am truly happy as I become nothing, as the weasel walks from the thicket and we share the same moment of smallness, of uncertainty, of wonder until the low bellow of the ghost train startles us both back into being. I celebrated the wedding of two very good friends tonight and managed also to discover a bit of my soul that had wandered off into the woods and was looking for a way home.