I feel like writing about paris, or maine or madison county and its bridges, but I know little to nothing about any of them and have only been to one.
so what seems like a date from time, is merely a decade, 19-29, with each year feeling like ten, and those years leading up to it?
many lives we’ve led.
what person are you now? can you connect with that little boy or girl of your childhood?
I try to, often.
I remember asking myself at about age ten(and probably many other times), what will the man look like? what will he do? how will he be seen and accepted, and see and accept? so that little boy grew and at 19, he thought, here comes that man. but then came the early to mid twenties, and that man was put on hold, because, though those years are a lot about learning, the majority of them, for me, were about wasting. and circumstance may have led to that, but with that wasting I came to be here, me, now. where learning is once again a conscious state and I can sift through the tangled twenties to that blushing boy and we can see each others warm faces and I can say to him.
here he is.
this is the one you wondered about, this is the explorer, the bird watcher, the propelled buoy who sees the way you did, who looks through the magnifying glass at each intricate limb, questioning and discovering,
this is you.