Sometimes, we feel like communicating, and can't do much with our own words.
A lot of things can only be felt...not touched, nor seen with our mind.
And others are as tangible as a stone.
We can almost move them around, like we move around our own furniture, the stumbling blocks in the way.

The inner world is a space, and we try to find it out... in every breath.

It expresses itself, in every breath, and that will be always (partially) a mistery.
Until we pass away.