Happiness abides in quietness, in a soft place where you taste and enjoy solitude, where nothing really matters, where there is no movement but contemplation. Only living in wilderness, even if it hurts and seems going nowhere, has lead me to a new path, to embrace silence, to savor the very instant of breath without ambitions or concerns. The pettiness that enter so largely into all living and doing is magic, is lovely and makes more sense than bright reasoning. Pettiness sounds like the flitting of a dead leaf, gentle and peaceful. Pettiness smells like a mixture of lavender with roses and branches of honeysuckle. When quietness and smallness are stranger than hustle and bustle and excess, we find no rest, no pleasure. Then, we meet emptiness and hectic minds wandering from one thing to another in the hope that this rambling gives them a clue to their real nature, to their whereabouts.