Is it looking at a different life.
To see others and their good choices.
I learn of possibilities beyond my imagination.
A true adventure.
The clock ticks, music plays, and I am very hea-r/e. Still, I spell. If only I knew what was reasonable or is that the rule imposed by language on our joy.
A victim of reduction-ism. Reducing experience to words on a page - or colors on a canvas, or -. But then in normal times, we do not experience as they do and so we borrow their vision.
And now, I am here again with the timer - an unexpectedly important feature - and Tony.
Eight minutes - perfect music, a magical moment. Posture matters, the view matters, music matters, taste and touch and balance. Senses matter. All we have is the memory of awareness if we are not NOW, and here. Distraction as I light the PAX but soon returning. It may be that with experience, I will write more.
But, it is hard to continue without A-s support. Perhaps I can develop it.
So now, I will go again and speak from my mind. Record thoughts as words. What is the result. I do not know but it is an adventure. Perhaps a fixed point attractor with which to connect to an inner self or other person that might remain hidden.
I think the paper matters as well. Perhaps I deserve more than, better than copier quality? How will I know.
I try to escape, while the lock ticks. I catch my self and sit, returning to here: a beautiful place.