A rarity these days is company that gets me writing, however random and silly it might end up being. Found an exception late last evening, and dabbled a fair bit after a good long time. One thing about a good company, is much like priming a pump, to borrow from common parlance. The way it opens things up and gets you going, cannot be understated.
Cutting to the chase, dabbled these two and a few more post the conversation. And if this is anything to go by, I can see the days ahead having me writing regularly. Good thing, I guess.
Lying beside on a clear summer's night reminded of those old sailors. The men found their direction looking up, pole stars for the anchor. Reminds again of the failed sailor in me, trying to find direction from her eyes. The failed one not yet fathoming the depths of the ocean, her eyes are. I do wonder if I'll sail through, the rough ocean's allure beckoning.
Nietzsche was not wise after all, for all his company in Zarathustra. Whatever he said about staring into the abyss and it staring back at you? That's all false. I stared enough at her eyes and it didn't look back. Oh, not an abyss, I guess. Not a black hole either, that I fell in and kept falling in, enjoying the fall. An enigma is what she is, an enigma challenging the enigma in me.
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