there is a cold silence in the drive, and it is warm. but you cannot tell...you cannot tell whether that contented solitude you feel is a rare moment of prelapsarian happiness or a aberrated defense mechanism. for the elusive feeling wears the mask of both courage and fear, hate and love, good and evil, contentedness and holy discontent.

a child will ask, "which is right?" and i will say, "love, my dear, and peace." but peace cannot be the highest good, for we do not say "peace" to our starving brother. we feel ill at ease until we stick our own hands into his mouth, then watch silently from afar as the heaving slowly ceases in degrees of time unmeasurable to us.

between these strands exists a continuum, of which we are perpetually struggling to define, and yet we can afford to delay no longer. we act. we live, and we love. and most of all, we stop thinking.

and then, like a fairy tale, the snow starts falling in that childisly nostalgic town precisely at the moment in which you arrive for the second time.

Miles driven today- 760 (Downingtown, Pennsylvania to Wheaton, Illinois)

Favorite Find- The Low Anthem, Tiny Desk Concert

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QvyREQwc7qQ