A Crack, A River, A Chasm, A Sliver

There is no doubt that I’m playing in a different game than you are. There is no question that I have seen the world from a different view. There is no way you can know me from where you stand. There is no uncertainty that when I say, tan, beige, macaroon, hazel wood, granola, oat, egg nog, fawn, sugar cookie, sand, sepia, latte, oyster, biscotti, parmesan, hazelnut, sandcastle, buttermilk, sand dollar, shortbread, you wonder what I’m pointing to.

Each miscommunication, each story told from each different angle, every shade misconstrued, is a part of our lived experience. I’ve told a tale of which there is no single source. Your answers aren’t wrong, but keep asking the questions.

Simplicity is not your enemy. Directness is just that. The questions are big, but they are humble, they are unswerving. Don’t over think it, because you’ll miss it entirely.

The question is what do you see. The question is how do you see it. The question is how does it change you.