Look around you, no look up. What do you see? Actually, what aren't you seeing? Was that a bird flying past or just a projection of what your mind was racing past? If I were to ask you one question what would your answer to that be? I've lived a long and fulfilled life that had few takers and some givers who contributed to making it what it has become today. People narrate stories, some their own and some that belong to others. We treasure our chest of tales that nestle themselves on our tongues and run off into a single path as in the woods; one that's untreaded and then this monologue echoes into the far horizon from where another friendly folk picks up where you left off and narrates this mixed fabric that's sewn ever so slightly different from what you wore the previous day.
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