Moments are sometimes simultaneous trains, each with its own schedule. We climb aboard the one we decide is for us, taking interest in the moments and destinations we believe are to be memorable. As we stare fixedly out the window at the passing landscape, we anticipate the upcoming gorge filled with verdant greens and racing rivers. As we focus on the idea of the river, we fail to hear the words spoken at our shoulder, even earnest ones or those magical syllables whispered in excited yet muted voices. Countless views sweep past. And as swiftly as the gorge approaches – it eclipses us.
…And because the best lives are those which suffer the incessant staccato interruption of mirth and breathless peals of laughter, I close with a quote, one which gently taps the cymbal of absurd accuracy:
For a new year, barely commenced, and an old friend:
“Sit by the window and play the piano with attentive melody, the keys softly tinkling. And when a bird poops on the window, laugh devilishly, and think of me.” – X
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