The toughest journey is the one that one is compelled to take inside oneself.
When I write that with even one bit of belief, I promise to stop, and take to chicken soup.

The toughest journey is in fact what it takes for me to move my neck, given that there seems to be a rod stuck between my back and my head, refusing to move or to be moved.

Speaking of not being moved, I'd like that. Especially with all the wars and the heat that seem to be increasing.

Life goes on. Or does it?
Boredom certainly does.