How does the writer nurture himself, who knows, he still doesn’t know, he may never know he just thinks and imagines that he can imagine some nurturing, nutrition in the sense of real sense, not found in books or any kind of “professionalism”. He thinks about it, that book he wants to finish and have people read and somehow afford something for himself, maybe a life and maybe some health, some elevated dream that only he can translate. Some spell or other language. Caring for his thoughts and what he thought, what he did and wanted to do– dreaming and driving to another ‘other’. And he’d be there, soon. And he didn’t have to be professional. Or fake any voice or walking pace.