November 9, 2000: Maker speaks

For three days he sat staring at me—only to quickly fall back to sleep. A stuffed toy laying along side the highway—no one but me could see him. Last night, I invited the masked bandit to sleep forever inside the comforts of my forest. The sky was a cloudy misty gray, no moon like the night before. I felt no fear to be alone, for the newest totem animal required nearby water. This meant setting aside all personal weaknesses to lend a helping hand to someone I just met—for I trusted the sacred path. Do I think I’m strange? Only when convinced. I’m not strange for I am uniquely qualified to be the wind.

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