Rantglass - because that's how things are.

I cannot see.

I cannot see.

Some are moving forwards. Happily, hand in hand, with sweet whispers and sincere affection glowing on their faces. Skipping down the brick road towards the blue, blue, sky, the green countryside beckons. Birds chirping, a cool breeze softly rustles the autumn leaves. Still, the air sparkles with a beautiful electricity.

Some choose to move backwards. The lone rose sits alone, slowly wilting away as the minutes tick by. Thorns decorate the stems, but the dark red petals pay no heed: “I live my life; you live yours.” Still, the thorns line up prettily in a row, patiently awaiting for the day to come.

Some do not go anywhere. They become innocent bystanders, always listening, always observing. Through the walls, through the windows, through the glass. Never with intentions, but sometimes, some things just seem to come through anyway. The Bystander takes it all in, and she bothers simply because she has to. It does not go any other way. Still, the eyes and ears are always open, always welcome.

Talks for the future take place. Relevant topics: of reunions, vacation plans, and what-to-do-nexts, are brought up more regularly at these times. Alternately, the musings cannot be avoided. Stop, and rewind. Think. Reminisce. Do they remain still as memories?

Oh, but I did not know about it back then...

Sometimes, I can be so blissfully ignorant, yet hopelessly sensitive.

No, there is no point.

On air now: Winning a Battle, Losing a War, Kings of Convenience

Details of this entry.Wednesday, February 02, 2005, filed under Blogger Archives.
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