A long line of noisy traffic winds its way through the delicate beauty of a crisp midwinter evening.
The sun is leaving the sky; the sky is fading. Dusk.
As I drive my radio tells me of brutal wars in far away lands and petty arguments close to home.
I am struck by an idea; it is human memory that strings time together. Memory takes this present moment, the smallest thing in the universe, and binds it with an infinity of other moments to make a war, or an argument, or...
Soon I will arrive at my lovers house and I will rap on the door - brass on brass. I will barely have time to observe the first star I’ve seen that night when out will come a kiss, and an embrace, and a warm breathing in the ear. And there will be no war in the world.
There will be no war in my world.
2 comments:
Welcome back Matthew. I was wondering where you had got to! This is a thought provoking piece of writing. You are so right - memory is at the heart of the best and the ugliest aspects of human life.
Take care,
Marica
Matthew - I do wish you would look to publish your work! I wish I had your skill to write so efficiently and meaningfully. Orsome!
Michael Bucksmith
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