There is no way to speak of living, of being. There is no explanation. How could anyone speak of walking, of breathing, of seeing, of perceiving? How can we speak of the sky, of the light, of the fragrance of the earth, of the birds flying and singing, of the trees, of the grass leaves, of the children, of a smile, of a stare, of tears, of the starlight in the night, of the moonlight? How to speak of this very moment unfolding unto itself?... Isn't it blowing being?... Wow!...