1.
Sunday night around 6pm. 1-4 sizable tears barely contained as I turned the key in the ignition and turned my car toward home.

2.
Tuesday early evening on Pershing between the lake and MLK. Tears provoked by a day of exceptional honesty, but brought to fruition by yet another commute straight into the wind on pockmarked roads.

3.
Wednesday morning, 8am. For while one may repeatedly insist that all one wants is to be satisfied and happy, the truth is that one can often find oneself clinging to samsara with a vengeance. This is especially so when one starts to get the sense – however dim – that there might in fact be a way to unloose oneself from the wheel. And the last two minutes of this song in the mist as I walked through Washington Park in the rain.