The lightning crashes down all around me, and I can't help but to think of the other wonders; how times' wings are growing at an increasing rate. I look top right and I see July 19th. What happened to June, and May, let alone the 18th.

It's the second night in a row I've the mixture just right. A welcomed cold breeze flows over my back and in what used to take one night, I'll try to get out in three.

Before I go forward, I rewind 2 years. A year when in the most broken state I've ever been I came to a realization, and started to define who I was, and where I was going. I had lofty plans, and in the end wasn't mature enough to make the timing right. I can look over and over again at my thoughts and goals, and have more respect for them then, than I do now. The goals were honest, and I approached them in a way much more desirable than today.

I move back the the present, and realize my lofty plans are now reality, just two years behind. Why 2 years, when 3 years is the number I should be concentrating on. It's as simple as change of fate that has brought the present to be.

I've lost all there is to gain; And as I play it over and over again, I'm with nothing new to contemplate. There was a day when an image of you would stir the pigeons, when a thought of you would bring a tear. not now. There is no more scratching, no new tears; only scars. Scars. All that are left to remind me that the past has been real. That those thoughts were real. That those dreams were real. That you are real.

The song has changed, but the beauty in the melody is all the same. It's had 2 years to develop, and in that time I've watched myself and the world change. I've sat back and watched, as thoughts progressed into reality. A 7 year plan turned into 5.

A swim at noon today fast forwards me now only 2 months. I awake on the 18th floor. Even before I'm out of bed, there is already feet moving around 18A. I rise to the voice of Rosetta. It's a short elevator ride to the 4th floor, and that's when reality settles in.

Although my thoughts are english, my words are not. Lunch welcomes me again on the 18th. My screens as rotated as my lifestyle, I pass the remaining heat with yet again another language while sitting patiently on the first floor awaits another J as well as another evening. The breeze on the patio is nothing like it is now. The mixture will be the same; but the view.

The sun has long since fallen. I sit alone with a hot plate, and watch the world travel by floors below. It's a busy world. One that doesn't stop when the sun sets. It's a view that for three months is all my own.

One block remains with $20 dollars in my hand, and my friend on the first to define it. It's a reality and dream that took 2 years to make. And Just like it did 2 years ago, the music starts to play.

The present dream is already three years in the making. What you would have told me then wasn't possible, I've already done it. I wasn't wired to stop just there. My thoughts, my plans. They've grown faster than before, and as foreign hands will teach me - there is nothing left to prove. My branch has no reason to fall to the ground, and God will be there, as he has in the past to see it so.