This is not a day for asking questions, not a day on any calendar. This day is conscious of itself. This day is a lover, bread, and gentleness, more manifest than saying can say.
I cannot stop asking. If I could taste one sip of an answer, I could break out of this prison for drunks.
There is a basket of fresh bread on your head, yet you go door to door asking for crusts.
Inside any deep asking is the answering.