I like to visit his wound, once and awhile. Following every story he writes of the lines of the scar, as if luring to its core, leaving star on his mark here and there as if convincing him that he is not alone, as if i understand what his pain is all about. Do i understand? Do they really understand? When no one can really understand one’s pain more than one’s self. Consolation bores the pain. It never meant to heal, it is the air our souls breathe. Let us bleed! Let us live!