I believe there are people better at living than I am. I think a majority may be. This belief stems from a constant impression that I am not very good at it, and so I believe that someone must be. Contra-observation: I have not met one of these people. More to the point I have never realized them at the moment. Years later, when recalled from that naturally efficient and imperfect quality called memory, I begin to imagine that certain people were perfectly adjusted, resting in the warm center of expectation. I may be better able to understand them now, or it could easily be that I’ve begun to impress my own symbologies and world view on them, as actors, in a play I’m writing for myself, that we all write for ourselves. I still believe they are out there, these happily centered people living well and with ease. I’ve never met them, though I may have remembered them, but how can I help believe when they are always across the edge of the map. How can I alleviate my belief, though it causes undo strain, when my eyes are always in their direction, never seen? My eyes are fixed on a point across the edge of the map and I believe people live there, not yet seen.