Hello again, old friend. It’s been a long time. It feels like we haven’t spoken in ages….Remember how we used to discuss you endlessly? You and all your big dreams. You were in the process of being me. Growing. Evolving. Challenging. Not yet knowing what was to come. What you would discover. But my dearest, the new me feels sorry for the old you. How you’ll never understand this new synchronicity. Always running. Afraid of what you might find. I was you. Lacking in depth. Only just discovering breath. Leaping before you looked. No acknowledgement of fear. That was your motto after you saw it spray painted high up on that mountain in Old Montreal. Now your measured. calculated. slow. Old you improvised as you ran down the rabbit hole. Today, you being you would never tumble down. You lost track of the terrain; no longer scared of who will catch you when you fall. But old you is still there. Sometimes if you listen closely. Strain your ear to listen. He’s terrified that you’ll forget all about him.