december
you have a million drafts and there they wait. fickle, like the great unknown we have never met before. a pixel mouse hangs over it, dropping itself into the words someone else wrote, reviews from a person that might have been you in ages past.
and there is no way, in providence & promise, that it represents you, at the moment, at this moment in time. rather it is a fragment of you that you left behind.
so what then? leave the words drifting in the dark? is that against their purpose, to leave them to be swallowed by the abyss of holidays past? should they be shown to the world, to a world that once fit them but now brushes against them like a puzzle that will never fit its last piece?
we rework them. we need to. for your sake and ours.
and there is no way, in providence & promise, that it represents you, at the moment, at this moment in time. rather it is a fragment of you that you left behind.
so what then? leave the words drifting in the dark? is that against their purpose, to leave them to be swallowed by the abyss of holidays past? should they be shown to the world, to a world that once fit them but now brushes against them like a puzzle that will never fit its last piece?
we rework them. we need to. for your sake and ours.
