February 23, 2000: Mask not me but the rumor
A new day! Really? Aren’t they all one in the same? The first seeds of a newly planted field have kissed the air we listen to—I’m left wondering what to plow? I’m not a farmer! Nor do I wish to be mend broken barbed wire fences. I wait for the first seeds of the newly planted field to grow—in sight, a rather dangerous game. The weather is too unpredictable. Passing storms, spring snow and freezing rain. Each is strong enough to push all rumors away.