Friday, March 25, 2005


This is a still moment. A pausing between events and emotions, a break from pretending. Let the sounds of those around and within me play their own games, while I stand off to the side. I become separate; I regain perspective.

Why do we put ourselves here? Flooding our lives with experiences, hoping that a trace of what we touch will make itself known. We live and live, but how often do we learn? How many sounds and textures manage to break the surface – what portion finds its way to us? Experience screams so loud that it drowns itself out, its message failing to reach this tired mind.

I only had a moment to remember – their world is again calling for me. It’s demanding that I set down my pen, wear a respectful smile, and return to pretending. It’s begging me to forget; memory makes us too real. Life has no patience or allowance for anything of significance. I could drown in days like this.