Someone once told me that a wise man always sits beneath a tree in the midst of the thickest forest because that's where he can hear the voice of God and his creatures. Away from the cars and the machines, the laughs and the screams.
Then a man came along, dressed in a suit and shiny shoes, and said "Young man. Wise men reside in indestructible concrete buildings. Sit in a carpeted room with air conditioning with the world dancing on their fingers. From there they make the world hear what their mind speaks and put green papers in their pockets."
Then a woman came along. She had big eyes and long black hair. Her lips red with war paint. She smiled at me and said "There is no wise man. Never was and never will be." She looked away, put a flaming ember to her lips and inhaled.
I will be ninety in a day. I still haven't found the wise man. There have been many wiser than me, but each one fell away along the way. If i ever do find him, i just want to ask one simple question. "Will it be worth it?"