Are we all living matter? Do we grow a bit like trees? Layer after layer. Are we getting to know ourselves or are we becoming new with each death? Is dead wood a possibility of our existence? Can I know you better than you know yourself? Are we getting to know each other or do we know nothing at all? In rare moments we are blessed to be wise but can we hold on to it? Is truth holding on to us? A constant connection possible? Changing and never ever the same but the truth is. Can you feel love? Do you know love? Can we be lost in the search for the unknown or do we become the known? Are we allowed to ask at all?