Recognized

While I am not just an open book, a blank journal, fresh and empty, ready, waiting, I do have direction that is not immediate, I have a direction but have not been found, I am waiting for something to happen, wanting to read more into things, something dark, full of doubt, sheer terror and confusion, While I am in no way hopeless, right now I am merely potential, A seed, an egg, nothing yet, a cosmic speck of kinetic energy, havn't even bloomed yet, barely even impregnated, staring at an abyss, and not even sure what to do or say to the wind whipping at my face, to the girl taking my order, to the teachers, the family, the strangers on the street, I gaze at the changes before me with the same indifference or insecurities as I ever had, they only swell and undulate with time, shrivel, or bulge, breathing deeply, with a step forward or back, in this way nothing is permanent, I have years to go before knowing what permanence is, To even calculate my passions, to apply them to this physical body renders me simple, a plebian with some musical taste, reading book after book, eating through films and obscure records, to digest them, to benefit myself, to draw something of myself through experiencing them. I walked to another country to stand in some field, and across the mile or two of grass and stone I saw a boy who looked exactly like me, not a man either, looking back at me, whom he must have assumed to be him, curious and wary, in utter disbelief of what he was looking at.

Garda

Garda here don't carry guns, based on the assumption that people will not attack the unarmed.