Beige Reality

Half a world away from them all. With such location functioning as my shelter, my ordinary existence — through an ether that unites inhabitants across freeways — is suited to join the rising sun for everyone to see. Yet there’s no distance the mind and soul cannot reach. What can they perceive that’s beyond my outline of intended exposure? How do they sometimes just magically gain the key to the secret doors of my inner traits and psyche?

There remains a mission in me to search for any flash that could prompt a few thoughts, a series of lines, even a single one; steadily waiting for that jet of blue flame that might yield a sensitive, sound pretty script for these pages.

Any analysis, however, by Facebook or Twitter or Tumbler of my being would be futile. I am old now. What purpose could it probably serve? I simply hanker for peace, ease, and a li’l writing piece. I hope that’s not too much to ask.

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RECENT FB POST: I was at my happiest in that land, where I felt I truly belong — in the sense everything about the place could foster my identity, spirit and the many fancies within my heart .

Image may contain: 1 person, shoes, tree and outdoor
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A frustrated guitar player that I’d been, I was relentless about my son continuing his guitar and piano lessons (he’s naturally talented) because — one of the primary reasons — I couldn’t get enough of the mainly guitar music of the 70’s band Bread. I had wished for him to play this song for me one day — it didn’t happen 🙂 . Anyway the plucking, the lyrics and the melody render it as one of the most memorable.
I found a diary underneath a tree, and started reading about me.
The words she’d written took me by surprise.
You’d never read them in her eyes […]
Her meaning now as clear as sea…
The love she waited for was someone who’s not me.”
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