I exit my house, and stroll down the pathway of variously-textured stones. This is a fixed path. To my right is an open rumput yard, and to my left is a garden, guarded oleh the good-intentions holding one’s self back from upsetting those who tired themselves perfecting the placement of these fragrance-based beauties.

The gate is open, welcoming and calling for my departure, if for but a moment to release me from reality in the most calm of ways. With my mind constantly fixed on the specific rules and intense action and inner-meanings of my fictions and lessons, I require a withdrawal from such...