The Interior Oasis If you have ever played with two magnets, you will know a solid cushion of air that creates an infuriating resistance; and the satisfying click when they are flipped over and drawn together.

This city is like a magnet. I feel gravity and a solid cushion of air. There is no space to dream except inside, and you bring the dream outside, carve out the air, place the dream there. Force it to be, to exist.

There is nothing to fear, all is surmountable.

In the moment of clarity that often comes after heavy drinking, a friend once observed that 'my un-confidence is my confidence'. Not quite grammatically there, I must say, but piercing a comment all the same, especially at 3 in the morning. True, what is vulnerable is often awkward, what is awkward is often precious, and what is precious... is an oasis.

The oasis is in the heart, leading to the jugular. A dry heart means a shell of a person, but a full heart keeps its pace, pumping a liquid dream. The dreaming is the action. People who cannot dream have no oasis...

A society that cannot dream has no oasis. It is a desert.  ¶ 12:42 PM