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Situations are placed in front of us as we speak. Choices cross our path all along the way. Witnesses to our joy or sorrow often beg to differ.  The world changes and we are surrounded by a "make me better" breeze while struggling to keep our feet on the ground. We run after an aspiration, breathless, and the wind provides us with more air than we actually need - a fine excuse to feel dizzy and yet confused. We grab an opportunity by the arm and realise, as she turns around, that we have just confused her with someone else. Weak doesn't sound like a life sentence - it's easy to be sad and hurt, it's charming to be lost, it's attractive to be in need, aye? It'll always be impossible to come across anything in which we cannot believe. We blush, but Lou Reed has failed to see it. We take like little girls and break like women, but Bob Dylan was too busy to notice. Suddenly all those directions take you by the hand and feel like embracing your weary carcass at once. It's such a sweet, such a warm, long and tender moment... Poor thing, no one's to blame! There's hardly a chance for you to know that the right way was standing there, offering to drop you somewhere else, and you just couldn't see.