The Métro is packed with returning. The babies and small children seem particularly weary and agitated.
Everyone, though, looks like they want and need something.
I wonder what that might be. I wonder where they have all been, where they are all going.
I like this verse from Layman Pang:
»What I do every day
Is nothing special:
I simply stumble around.
What I do is not thought out.
Where I go is unplanned.
No matter who tries to leave their mark,
The hills and dales are not impressed.
Collecting firewood and carrying water
Are prayers that reach the gods. »