days
We make our ways through mazes we construct, either out of love, fear, loathing, or some foul-smelling combination thereof. Days are simply tools used to build lives. Days, it seems, are horribly crippled tools when we have at them motivated only by reactions to yesterdays. Often, we aren’t fully, consciously aware that this is, though, honestly, can you ever remember a time that there wasn’t at least some haunting echo of your fruitless time skirting just outside your brain’s ability to grasp it?
Robert takes some care to describe, if admittedly incompletely, how it is that that life can taint its living.
We have to live, we must go through the motions – the paperwork, the taxes, the apologies, the fines, the fees, the death certificates, the birth certificates, the meals, the sleep – but damn, must it all take so much?
Days–how’s yours been?
No Comments Yet