Today today. According to uncle raymond, I'm seventeen. Then a house later I met a 16 year old boy who thought I was his age. What is this, time is a face on the water? And like water it needs not be constant, or even consistent. Perhaps. So I can look 16, 17 while being 21, and sing julie andrew's I am 16 going on 17 like I used to, only this time truthfully. I shall remember this. From this day forth I have been enabled to sing i-am-16-going-on-17-truthfully.
But more what I wanted to say was, today I was struck with the power [that] being brings. Being, or is-ing, meaning to say, the state that is. Walking up the slope took effort, the mind expanding and pressing upon me the person, and I felt like I needed to breathe more deeply. Simplicity is complex paradoxically because it is simple. Taking away tends to be harder than adding on. Breaking down, while keeping the same meaning, more so.
There was nothing sentimental, nothing wistful about my walk up towards my former home. I was merely retracing footprints, paths that had been plodded on by a younger self for six years and more. It's just, what had been, I suppose.
3 comments:
:)
I was scratching my head over what a fu was till it dawned upon me it wasn't english.
dlpxdpic - dyslexia + bad spelling
erica: haha! oh hey how were your visitations this year? (:
rstgy: rest stingily [is there such a word form as stingily?]
wayne: (: too
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