I walk alone not lonely, unbound, beneath a sky that belongs to me. In a world with its own weather, its own sky, its own direction. Each mind its own country borders unmarked, crossings imagined. In a universe with its own gravity of thought, where even the stars shimmer differently, and the constellations I see are unfamiliar to anyone else, known only to me. Under this sky there is only me, a private map of memory, where every joy has a past and every wound knows my name.