So there’s this cliff way above the clouds, a beautiful sight, made of golden earth that’s complimented by clear blue sky and soundless dessert. On the edge of this cliff is a poorly located seesaw, the pivoting center point sits so that one end of the board hangs suspended far beyond the solid ground, like a diving board only it teeter totters. Keep up with me now. I’m seated on the end of the seesaw with ground beneath it staring at the other end, which is at its highest point due to my weight. Sitting on that end is an idea, light as a feather. Alone, I struggle finding ways to get close enough to those ideas without falling to my death.
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