I want few things, but they are all unlikely [to make manifest my songs, my writing, your heart, to summarize]. And I am wondering if that makes me irresponsible to go after one or most of them. I am gripped by the uncertainty so much that it makes it all seem foolish. But then there are the moments of being so sure: when I forego sleep and uncover a new story inside of me, when I lose a whole day to write another song that captures a former fleeting thought, after walking all of the sidewalks of this city with you. Those moments bring the same assurance as the earth hinting at summer weather (it will surely come), taking a flight without a plan (it will surely be grand), drifting on a boat in the middle of the lake (this is surely where you are meant to be).