The Gnostic Wanderer: Less is more. The heart is pure. The journey is inside.

Señor Palermo: There was a fountain at the park near my house that felt like a sacred place, a miraculous zone of solitude, a nearby yet remote island of soothing dignity. People, dogs, birds, all stopped when there, stopped and waited in silence, spending moments outside, passing worlds inside, then moved on, but not here anymore, not in the park they came from, but all different ways, in their very own, private universes. We all came from here, yet nobody left the same way. I passed the portal every day, weaving my trail so many times, I’ve forgotten where, in which universe, my journey started. And rightfully so, my past citizenships are of no relevance, I am of that park, of that fountain, of that eternal serenity.

Little Goddess: Humans can be true, animals are true, plants are the truth. My home is my garden, my garden is my home.