I can't remember how I got here, but I'm glad I did. It's warm and cosy, sheltered and safe, but how did I come to be here? How will I get back? Doesn't matter. Not like anyone at the bridge will miss me. I'll stay here, sleep the storm away.
The sky is black and the sound of drums fill my ears. The darkness is banished by blinding light, then it's back, and I am forced to be blind. How did I get here? It doesn't matter because I am here.
Was there a path? I don't know because there are bushes in the way. Did I climb the cliff face? My memory has decieved me. Or did God send me? Would God do anything for me? I thought he should hate me! Why else would he send me into a life of unsurity, not knowing why I would sleep each night, and whether I would eat the next day? I am a hopeless beggar in a safe place and I can't remember how I got here.
