I'm parked on an empty street in Culver City at 6:45am. Early as usual, for where I need to be.

Struggling against the bars, shaking them and shouting but where does struggling ever get us? To foolishness.

So instead I'm working on solving the worry. Digging out of the underground. There's an ounce of light in this thick-aired blackness, I can smell the light, a drift of freshness in the heavy haze.

Yesterday I felt that freshness like a glint of sunlight on cold, black grass. It was unquestionably there.

This morning I woke up and rolled over into reality to face what I've created - this little
land of myths and me the King of Creation, in a world swallowing into miniature debt, full
of miniature people and miniature mountains.

But that light shines in from somewhere above not so tiny, somewhere from some outside haven that's untamed, absolute, hot and huge and roaring. That glint of sunshine from something impossible, like the passing of a plane and then it's gone and the tiny world lives on - only the wiser that beyond these bulwarks is a land so much bigger, so full of quests and creation so beyond my wildest imagination.

So let me be lost in these woods, because in darkness we dream the hardest.

There's hope, there's love, there's passion.. and somewhere in there, there's an answer.

See you after work

migs