Deal That Hand My Way

I don't know, but it could be hard to follow. Best not to try to replicate it, best to do something different each time. I want those cards, to do with them what I can. Deal that hand my way, I am not afraid. The birds keep whispering secrets in my ears, they are only secrets because nobody else cares, nobody knows this to be worth eavesdropping. I find that funny. I even laugh at times at the suckers that pass me by. You can break me. Some of you want to, some of you don't know how, some of you would offer to mend me, some would fear the fall. You cannot break me.

I am in a cage, again. For I know about these things. I seem to be either caged or totally free. There is no in between. There never was, and I can't see the start of one now. No wonder the ride was too hard to fathom.

It was snowing again. Two hours before I had looked outside. The light snow that had been predicted on a website I shall not name had been falling, now after a nod from a friend I looked again. Now thick, heavy snow that had not been predicted had clearly been falling a while. The snow which this morning had almost gone from view had now been replaced by a brand new fresh blanket of beautiful crisp white flakes. It was far from light snow. With the technology they have I don't understand why the forecast is hardly ever right. How strange!

I rifled through the last pages of Bukowski's 'Women,' just like he rifled through them in its pages, just like he worked his way through those bodies as if they were just pages turning. I put the book down, I reached for a new one. A book by Coelho, another of my favourite authors. Our relationship went way back. He didn't know about it, wasn't that the best bit of magic about being a writer/reader? You were exquisitely linked and yet total strangers to one another. How wonderful to ponder the strangeness of this. How would you interpret the words, when everyone's mind walked down a different route, when everyone essentially read things in their own unique mindset? Beauty at its most divine, in my eyes.

The snow was crazy and then it more or less stopped. The clock was ticking. It never left me alone. I could guarantee that. Unlike the weather forecast, hitting that nail on its head. The computer made its constant gentle sound eluding me of any silence. The background noises of the building and its other residents kept creeping in and back out of my attention. Silence, I imagine you for now. The fridge was buzzing sporadically, the radiators made their own tune and hearts were yearning, in a vast multitude of directions. The world was everything it ever was, and nothing more.