The bubble is safer; floating high and whispering "I don't care" each time. Inside the bubble, walls lined with books and plenty of ideas. A cosy place to nest.
Why bare my soul to an indifferent world? Ask instead, why hide in a nest, year after year?
No more why, just a now. "Now" was the time for a bubble. That "now" is past. This "now" is now.
This "now" a world pulling, calling "come, taste me in the raw."