[Hmmm, it's warm today...but i can still afford the coffee.]

Okay, okay, okay! So I can't imagine what it is that I want. Rather, I seem to be infinitely caught up in everything that I have.  (damnit to hell.)  In the mean time: let's talk UNREQUITED!, shall we?

"There are people that come into and leave my life, not gently, moving quickly. They taste unfinished in my eyes--they have neither desire nor chance to distract me, and neither would I allow them to. But it is their theoretical selves that leave me this bewildered; knowing you're at least that real." [How is it that I am the same!?] What do we do with this? These ancient infants, sitting before each other with half-lidded opportunites!?

(look at a person. go ahead.)

Consider a few different perspectives peering at a particular life:

• What is its shape? How does it build its time around itself? These--the things that we do, and allow done to us.
• What is its intention? How does it live with itself, knowing so completely why it's doing what-all it does?
• Where is its height of awareness? How clearly do the lines which join and separate it from everything seem to show up in its own form? How-looks a belief held--and (then) not?

[And which of these are real? What happens when what we deem 'maintenance', starts showing up everywhere?]

Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (10/7/06)