Was it ocean wind sand and salt layering a perpetual grit frosted over the glass which they were unable to keep up against, cleaning, or simply years built negligence to blur the outside light, uncertain. From the dark spot sitting curled near the corner in a home not my own absorbing cataract misted movements outside, attempting to fit these pieces carefully to my own thoughts and reflections. Integrating internal again. People. Not in each and every person, just certain types, understand how latent portions will unfold under changing pressure configurations of thier surroundings, surprise you. Small shifts on a larger surface, things to think in passing than dwell endlessly.

Thinking while walking, repetition has a habit of setting in, cyclic fixated thoughts form resurface to be examined over every angle. Grass was on my mind near the top of the hill, wanted roll back and forth slowly around the gentle sliding to cement slope. Fresh crisp clarity settled on my just past hours present as well in the simple surface complicated green expanse. I wanted these two to merge, feel connected to the world through similarity, a functional and necessary component. And as I was feeling closer, something shifted and focus was drifting again trying to see everything through gritty windowpanes. The general motions made sense yet they eluded closer inspection for detail and reason. Fix forced attempts to court understanding could be the cause for things slipping to the side, instead of allowing what is willing to arrive in a manner and method it chooses.

It would be easier more pleasant to wrap these thoughts in small slips around a story, carefully inserted as words of wisdom. It would find favor more readily, however to divorce them from mired context at present would be backing down after only just allowing them to surface freely.

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