I just want to get away. I want to feel my feet on the earth. I need permission from the trees, wild winds, mountain boars, expansive vistas and the instinctual edge left behind by known but not yet seen families of wolves. The world is full of shit. I don’t agree to it. I feel woken up, not by an alarm clock but by ancestors urging me to continue, to do better, because I can. We can. I smell death and the life that I want now. I feel nourished and protected but not in the way that you think. I didn’t come here for comfort. I came to create electricity. With you. With all things. Not by comforts and false promises that I cannot taste in my throat in this moment. Not by anything beyond my finger tips. Not by anything that I cannot validate with my own senses nor do anything practical with one moment from now. I will find it, sit for a long time for it, walk for it, hunt for it. It’s possible. My body knows it. There is a better way. I can make something out of this. I can make something out of really bad situations. We are all going to be food again. What table am I setting?