Wednesday, 20 June 2012

The Brick Wall Treatment


She was made out of stone. She was beautiful. She was a building. She was unfathomable. No question about it, she didn’t understand things. I guess maybe that was what would stand the test of time. She was probably broken, just in different ways, but she was something; something to look at, to tick in unusual ways, to observe and to just accept, in all her confused and hypocritical glory. Always on the edge, feeding off both sides, never falling off. I could wonder or just let it all slip away, write about it, put it to bed. Yeah, that was it.

If you ever come up against a brick wall, don’t take it on, perhaps. All it can do is dwarf you, all it can do is bounce your words right back at you, maybe even break you; stop you in your tracks. Completely. Oh, and it towers over me, and I can do nothing. I can storm its shadow to keep me from the brutal sun, painting the streets, around every single corner. I finger the puzzle, the pieces in my paws, it makes no sense. Some puzzles were not meant to be finished.

I could bang my head on you, I could knock myself silly, really put myself amongst the tortured ones. But, to be frank, this treatment is educational for me. Everything that rolls my way, whether I see it coming towards me or not, is designed to help shape me, just like those jigsaw pieces, so that one day it all fits, so it all just fits, someday, maybe. 

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