Time drifted by as it tends to do in hospitals, airports, train stations, whorehouses, and slaughter houses. It drifted by like a hobo in the night, so slowly, so swiftly, so silently, that you almost forgot it was there: little minutes, little moments, little pieces of our lives we can never recapture, maybe not ever make right, but little pieces of our lives that no one is ever quite sure of what to do with.
The present blends with the past and the faraway becomes suddenly very close to the heart and the lost and distant are suddenly near and dear and the pearly shells on the childhood beach are the bright, dead leaves in some old forgotten mans front yard.
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What is on your mind today Wes?
ReplyDeletebeautiful words there Wes...
ReplyDeleteOne of the reasons this resonates with me is because for the time since Christmas, I have been copying old photos onto my computer. Today it was 100 or so 35mm slides from a 1966 visit to ten countries in Europe.
ReplyDeleteCouple this with a concurrent activity of transcribing items from old calendars into a sort of digital diary, and my past and present have been very much entwined in the past few weeks.
"The present blends with the past and the faraway becomes suddenly very close to the heart and the lost and distant are suddenly near and dear..." Oh, yes, yes it does. Thank you, Wes.
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