sitting in an office building. it's grim, there is little light, the people around me are not friends, the light coming in through the window filters through the multi-story car park. it's sometimes interesting, sometimes fun, rarely boring. but is it life?
they're selfish, they're lazy, they don't like You, they don't like what You want. they laugh at me for loving You and trying to live like You.
but across the road sits my friend in heartbreak. next to me sits a man who isn't well but lives in disappointment and long buried hopes.
why do we live the way the world says we should. why does he sit next to me in hate of his job and not do anything about it? why do i sit inside when I'd prefer to live outside?
why does this land laugh at You and when did we loose the knowledge of what it is to love and grieve and live?
in the garden?