I read a newspaper article about a crane whisperer. He nurses wounded cranes back to health, he speaks to them, he goes for walks with them, he teaches them to fly. Some cranes have stayed with him for a year, some for a decade. At this time of year, the cranes he has released back to the wilderness years and years ago stop by at the man's farm to dance with their old friend. They call him in the mist in the mornings, because they want to see him before they migrate. The man walks out to hang out with the cranes, dances with them for a few moments, and then says goodbye, as the cranes spread their wings and fly to the south for winter. This type of stuff makes me wonder what the hell I am doing with my life, and why the hell I care about my meaningless outfits.
I guess I care because us human beings crave for connections, be it with friends, loved ones, relatives or animals... or a bunch of strangers in the internet.