MILK

I leave in 42 days.
An adventure that will shape my entire existence.

I have not left yet.
I have reached a point in life, where the rhythm of who I am has begun to beat in tune with the rhythm of truth.
The ideas that were "just ideas" have started to become real; they have started to etch themselves into the fabric of my motions. I am not afraid.


The truth and freedom of life is dangling, precious and sweet before my eyes: a woman's perfect bare breast, the breast of a mother, the breast of a lover, the breast of an intimate friend. Entirely sexual, entirely nourishing, entirely free and real and strong.
Its milk is raw, pure, warm: It is the milk we were born to drink.
We wrap our lips around the nipples of life, and drink like little children - starving, dying children. Groping, sucking and drinking without hesitation. We have existed for all of time. We are the consciousness of a million living beings - untamed. There is nothing better than the milk of a mother.
This life is not the sedated, muted, confusion that we have been handed, it is erotic and beautiful; every moment the greatest moment we shall ever endure.
Sensual. Wild. Brilliant. Absolutely Alive.

There is no price that you can put on a single sunset. you cannot buy sunlight. You cannot own the motion of a waterfall. You cannot cage the wind. Breathe; tomorrow you will be a tiger again.



(Andrew Tipton)