We all lead a physically straining journey starting off as just young babes who eventually are lead by the sweet smells of desires. This then, there after the successions of faint failings and failings as our short fingers reach to clutch at pearls. We start off innocent, and end up ill-prepared, following arrows in directions not clearly indicated, hinted by writings on these brick walls. We trace our fingers in sand to cross off, and close off things in our heart, those we would so chose unfitting or unworthy. The truth is: these truths allude us, and in honesty our too many seekings of scents delude us. In what fashion, so tell it, are we to ever to find what our mothers had lifted us to see, this when they gave of their own bodies for us to find shape in this ever shifting world?