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    "She flew through life like clouds vanishing with the wind on a spring

day. Without stopping to express the deeper thoughts, would they just

stay inside, a mystery to us all?"

You are invited to come let me tell you a story. The story of my mind.

I find it interesting that sometimes the brain has more it wants to say

then we have time to let it.  I express myself in images.

At first,

these images start as pictures burned in my brain like negatives of a film

roll (remember those?), I wrestle them to fit my life. I wrestle them to stay

put until I have time for them. The longer they sit the more they disrupt

my sleep invading my dreams like ants on a sticky spot on the kitchen

counter that someone forgot to wipe up.

          Eventually, I give in and let them have their day in the sun making their way from my head to my

fingers. Lately, I can't define the difference between an idea and a thought,

an emotion and a passing phase. Maybe simply letting these images speak

for themselves isn't enough anymore. When did the war start and who

won? Nobody told me.

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