There's a man who lives in the woods behind my house. He doesn't live there in the traditional sense - he doesn't have a cabin or a tent or even a sleeping bag. He exists in the gaps between the trees, in the way the sunlight filters through the leaves and casts shadows that look like ancient runes. He doesn't eat, but he consumes the silence. He doesn't sleep, but he dreams of the rustling of branches.

One day, I asked him, "Why do you live in the woods?" He didn't answer, but the wind picked up, and the trees swayed in a way that made me feel like I was the one being questioned. I realized then that the man in the woods wasn't there to justify his existence. He's there to make you justify yours.

So I wrote this post. And I aligned it to justify. Because sometimes, the only way to make sense of something absurd is to stretch it out, to fill the gaps, to make the words fit the space they're given. Even if it doesn't make sense. Even if it's just a man in the woods, humming the sound of the universe. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s not. Either way, the woods are still there, and so is he. And so are you.

Justify that.