I&#39;m approaching a period in my life though where I&#39;d like to be totally absorbed into music, doing concerts, writing something. Basically, that IS what I am doing.

Wishing is wanting 
Wanting is hoping 
Hoping is waiting 
Waiting is unknown 
Unknown is hidden 
Hidden is found
When it's found 
One Can Keep Their Faith.

Why would that cause him to pack up his bolt, chord, and sphere, and hurry to Ecba, of all places?

Was life nothing more than a storm that constantly washed away what had been there only a moment before, and left behind something barren and unrecognizable?

Written By Arthur Golden

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