Perfect. What if I felt perfect? No trouble. What if I enjoyed each moment. Just for its perfection? What if I enjoyed my perfect Cody? My perfect Khwan? And what about my perfect orchestra? I feel something, listening to Genesis, perhaps, or being hungry. Or a nice combination.

Or maybe something else. That I can’t put my finger on. But it’s important. I don’t want to forget. That’s why I got out of bed to write this. It’s the Buddhist middle way, middle path. Seemingly. In my satiation, I can’t forget my hunger, and in my hunger I can’t forget my fullness. One cannot preclude the other. The middle way allows for both ends. It’s walking the line. Just like I was telling Cody about yesterday, on our walk. After he sang the Johnny Cash song at school. I would walk the line for him. That’s what I’m doing, with my diet. It’s a Cody diet. I want to be around for him as long as possible. So I’ve pledged to diet for him, which for me is walking the line. A thin line. Perfect love.