People, people, people!

It's all about people.

Everywhere I look, anywhere I go, whatever I do. People.

If there were no people, there would be no point to what I do. Wake up, I look in the mirror; next thing I know, it's again about people.

I need to know who I am to figure out who I'll be, not where I'm from or where I've been to decide where I'll land. People are here, places become memories.

So I reach my desert island, lay on the sun as I watch a pelican cross over me, laughing, basking in a sunny afternoon. He catches a fish, then two and three; hunger gives way to memory.

I catch a sunburn; enjoy a fish. Sun is essential, but people are here. Just here. And desert islands are anywhere but here.

So I could be standing here, waiting, or elsewhere, hoping... I'm still bound to people.

Why then expect more from life than people?! Here or elsewhere, just people. People...

I've found some people.


HHHHH