Does the porcupine feel the touch of a loving woman?
Switching from rice to bread, I continue to enter my secondary vessel. On this part of the globe, I walk more slowly. Yet, with less intent. Perhaps because the paths have been walked incessantly by yours truly.
Should I pave the path or continue to have muddy boots?
I have multiplied several times now and with each separation I have become – paradoxically – richer. Round edges become sharp. They reflect sunlight, blinding some, enlightening others. It’s not even up to me anymore which version is the more refined. Perhaps it just depends on the context – yours and mine.
Just like the porcupine, it depends on how you approach each of these versions. The beautiful thing about spikes is that they run one direction. Not dangerous when touched from the side, not even the base. There’s a front that still sniffles around, looking for the right way.
Just watch the back.