To thrive in the space between two live wires that arch and dance. To roar from your belly without abandon and to love so unashamedly that you enter a place beyond time. To rest against a tree and observe so mindlessly the creeks of old growth that you begin to lose your own limbs. To throw oneself into the torrents and trust that you will float, and to challenge the deepest chasms to a show of darkness. To being both the leaf on a meandering stream, and to being the river itself. To showing fear your truest colours and turning away the bellowing calls of cynicism that breed placidity and leech blood from our veins. To enjoying stillness so profound you forget your own agency. To writhing in agony and upending the bowels of hot metal that pierce our flesh and to letting it spill all over the floor. To hold a friend like you would a lover. To hold a stranger like you would a friend. To open ones ears and heart so fully that we might transcend our own bodies and live for just a moment in anothers. To gain agency through the filling of our brains because the mechanisms of this world are created by minds no great than our own. To believing that one voice can change a billion and that to saving one life is to save the world entire. What else than to rage against the call to the mindless wander towards the inert. A precious, delicate and fleeting thing, to draw a single true breath in the face of infinity.