I am smaller than the least substantial pin-prick. I am that I am; a microscopic hole in an overdose of white-washed stucco walls. How privileged can one man be? What honor may be bestowed upon any man or woman without a place to call home? What grand sights do blind men see? What mystic sound does the deaf man hear when behind his little hole in his hidden world, there is you; a hurricane force wind of primal truth choosing a vagabond’s portal (among many others) to come & go as you please; to seek out new universes (where there were none before you manifested from lunar light) where you generously create new wonder worlds of marvel? I am a simple man but I’m a lucky man too.