I am here, alone. Everyone have left for their respective homes, where as I am still waiting for my ride. This is not an uncomfortable place, just a bit windy. But, I have a warm coat. When protected against the chill, a bit of breeze strangely feels nice, necessary. How strange it is that we can desire what we never had, hate it because it is what we have, and all together pertain the ignorance many consider hidden truth. Hearing a slight flap caused by the light zephyr, I glanced up, my gaze enthralled by the American flag. Against the rolling gray clouds, its majestic motions are so worthy among the broad sky.

My ride has not yet arrived. However, no matter where it travels and brings me, real home is this land. It is the nature here which taught me how to live, told me I exist, provided me with chances. I know not of my heritage terrain, for it knows nothing of me.

What we are born with in the world is what we leave with. We were born naked, knowing nothing, owning nothing. To be able to let go of the things we pick up as we live life is vastly important...for nothing lasts. That which lasts is only the nothing that subsist. But, we were born in this country. We owe as much as to part for this country as well.

Dated: Last late night of the Oracle, hm?