I haven’t strayed from the idea of finding some martial arts retreat or joining the shaolin temple in China, or some remote karate dojo deep in the mountains of Japan. But in a world of bureaucratic crisis, the hand of destruction, the dance of death won’t save anyone, and it won’t save me. So instead my hands have turned to creating. To writing. I’ve unfurled my palm and redirected my anger to prose, a form of non-esoteric poetry, in an effort to reach the hearts but more so the minds of the powers and the people that be. I don’t know how effective this is, but I know it’s better than punching a rock lol