A rebel without a clue.

The day began early, at 4:30 a.m. with the quiet brewing of coffee. The morning was cool and still, a quiet, sufficient peace. All the while, the bread continued its own unexpected journey on the counter. The yeast, a quiet, gentle chaos, bringing all the separate ingredients together into a unified whole. It reminded me of the beginning of the Hobbit; how a great adventure can start from something so simple. The air now holds the excellent smell of its journey almost complete. Later, on my walk to Wetherby, the path presented a test. I encountered three dear souls, each in their own way a prisoner. It was a melancholy thing to see. I met a mind of pure logic, whose questions were an attempt to define and categorise a reality that simply refuses to be pinned down. Then, I saw a soul of constant opposition, whose life is a restless, unending conflict with the world. And finally, a spirit so afraid of all that it cannot control that it lives a life defined by its fear. I love them, and i...