winds

its cold. the first touchable feeling of this place. i tried to touch as little things humanly possible until here. the bridge. some call it obsession. i call it dream. closing my eyes i see more. i see not a city. not a bridge. not even light. i see power. i see bits of wisdom. i see insanity. i love it. i see rules and chaos. i see myself. it is not the place but the road that gives you the you you seek. you seek in dark. you touch nothing. nobody knows but you how important the feeling of wind is. this wind. nothing else. no other. the brooklyn bridge wind. join. join your dream and make it. other dreams will come.