In essence, I can only wonder if the light is shining at all. I look around tired and weary of a day without further production. Never have I felt so fulfilled for such an extended period of time--I think. It is not about the hours or minutes, but what is it?
Perhaps it is myself. Darkened sense of humor, lovely smile. Nothing particular, I suppose. My purpose: none of the moment, but in total to do what is only enjoyable and controversially productive. Philosophize. (And delight in the occasional fictional excerpt of my mind.)
So I write. I write so as not to forget what I thought and later remember what I had forgotten. Then re-think. And write again. Stay with me here; It is essential for me to have your attention to remember what will be so quickly forgotten in the seemingly eternal span of life in which we are but a millionth of a second.
Seemingly only because I have no denomination in the way I lead my life, but to know and believe.
You will have from me raw representations of thought. And if you can bear the thought, please do so.
COMING SOON: "Banana Pancakes: a herstory"
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