Trails.

Exhilarating, the mere possibility that I might have been speaking with you. I might well have.

The only hitch (oh, the poor old Hitch) is that it was only a pseudonym with words penned as a seed cast to the four winds. Hints within hints that get systematically discarded as I sort out the wheat from the chaff.

But not all. Not by a long chalk.

The only things that seem to make it across the divide are those that seem devised to hurt and maim.

I'm cut to the quick, to be sure. Yet the wolf is never as true to the trail as when he's cold, hungry and footsore.

And this wolf has learnt a thing or three. #frasesamericanas

Do you fear that meeting me will cause you to loose face, or is it any other type of fear? Tell yourself you are not afraid, day and night. Repeat it till you fall asleep and start again in the morning.

Meanwhile, you know what there is to fear, and it's not me. That, you already know in the marrow of your bones.

Unless there is another reason, which I will (shall, would) listen to very attentively.