"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.
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.