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  • A recent acquaintance said that he still has questions about this city. I suppose I thought they would go away. Like a place on the map you know you've arrived. No more questions when you're at your destination. I realize that I have been waiting this whole time for answers that will never come. Because that's not why I came here, to get answers. I came here to ask questions, to be filled with thousands of others asking questions too. If I wanted answers I wouldn't have come to this city.

    No one leaves their home for answers, only questions. No one wants to go on a journey and come back filled with some deadened certainty. No, a journey is begun and ended with a question. It is a question shot into the dark, maybe, if lucky, to find others that are questioning to.

    The country is for answers. Not that the people who live their are wise necessarily. But they are not seeking, they have found something, anything, and stayed. They aren't interested in asking questions any longer.

    And that's where I'll go eventually, when I get tired of asking questions. I will go to lay them to rest. Perhaps the country is a burial ground for stale questions. There is a brilliant energy to this questioning mind. It has potency and power and can go in a million directions. But my deepest soul knows that it cannot last. It is like a dying star, a comet, a gasp of light in the dark. Eventually I will give up the search, which is needed and valiant, to rest in the privileged knowing that I do not need to know, that I do not need to hold up the banner of questioning any longer.

    Eventually I will come to rest in the beauty of the answerless night. Nothing needed but the heaviest silence and a sky full of stars.
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