But that garden is closed to me.

How is it, I ask myself, that everything can be so different with me when nothing here has changed?
I am in my own house, in my own study, in the midst of all these quiet streets where my friends live.

They are all safe and at peace with themselves.

But I am never at peace.

I feel always on the edge of danger and change.
I keep remembering locoed horses I used to see on the range when I was a boy.