A thought arrives in the form of realization.
There is no truth to be found in an "unrelated Incident"
She was barefoot, dancing in the morning light breaking through the old window shade. Turning, shaking, free of all doubt, They would all be judged against this moment. I knew it then, even as it was happening, a rare moment of clarity for a thoughtful mind. I think I wanted to keep her there, forever frozen in time. She became a sculpture living under glass, preserved but out of reach.
I thought of Her as I stood outside her window waiting for something to happen, knowing full well that nothing would. They can not all give you what you need. Nothing is as freeing or dammed as knowing.
Existence is now your favorite song passing by in a car driven by someone you will never experience, someone you will never know… unless you shop at the same supermarket.
I miss all of what I couldn't see in the moment between the past and future of a memory. During the time in which it was "happening" I was thinking of myself, weren't you? There were never any roads, or forks to give the illusion of choice. A train grinding on it's track does not stop to enjoy the scenery.
