We both made our way to this concrete city, we children from the sea. And it was harsh and blaring, and I think it's hardened something in each of us, for a time, in different ways. Something about the poetry of the mountains and the sea has made us soft and open, and that doesn't get you anywhere in this town, so we have dug for anything rigid and cold, anything cutting and calloused. And in all this running around to keep up, we forget that this isn't the way we were built to live, coarse and grim. This isn't our home. This isn't our natural habitat, this world of results and bottom lines, and it shows in our weathering, our weary hearts and hopes.