It’s late in the summer and as the hot season draws to a
close, it’s time to tidy up the corners of the mind before a new season
begins. Call it seasonal thinking, but my summer shelf is ready to welcome all
the events that populated these past few months. It’s been a steady-paced time,
with sluggish days, rainy days, moody days, happy days, just ok days. I’ve been
no more no less than myself and under this constancy I lent myself to living
the days, but most of the time I just let the day live through to me, that is
when I didn’t feel the day; it’s a strange the thing that happens, when one
doesn’t live the day, that’s when the day grows wings and traps one in a whirl
and one’s left with no other choice than drifting away through the daily draft.
Those were the noisy, but lonesome days. I personally give little appreciation
to huge meaningless gatherings that most of the time lack authenticity, because
attendants tend to become slaves of convention. And when convention prevails,
that type of basic honesty slowly fades, conversations become awfully
predictable – one could picture them prior to the event itself – so that the
actual event feels like an enactment of overused lines in endless rehearsals
that history keeps such incredible accurate unwritten records of. And it’s the
unwritten script that survives the best, despite the opposite common belief
held true by Romans –Verba volent scripta
manent. I really think it survives best, because proof is in right there,
in front of our eyes. Why say the grass is still green on the other side when
brown shades gently find their way in as if an invisible painter cast his magic
over nature at night. But it’s almost
fall and it’s all I tend to digress a lot, as you can see, but it’s alright the
chaos in my mind is nothing but an indicator of my spontaneity, I might start
with something that I think it interests me, but then again how do I know what
it really does until I actually start? There you go, I could even find the
perfect excuse for a perfectly rambling post.
