The days pass by like the wind: sometimes strong, quick, as if wanting to bring with it anything and everything that is not rooted; some days slow, gentle, yet still fleeting. It ends but you know it would come back again.
I feel like an old wood tree. Sometimes spring comes and I think it makes me look more alive.
First: the above thought from Forever Girl, the draft of the novel I’m working on. Writing a novel can be such a dreamy experience, but like a dream, it’s all so easy to forget once you, the writer, are out of the created-world. I took a break from it after the first draft, mostly waiting for Forever Girl to call me back into her world again. She didn’t, not for so long. So long that I had thought I’d lost her… forever. Ha ha ha.
Her message the other day was so subtle I probably would not have understood it if I hadn’t broken my foot. Maybe it was her doing all along.
She was right on time, however. Somehow right now feels like just the exact point this doing ought to be. It’s enough distance to blur the background, but still close enough to see what ought to be seen clearly.
My mind at the moment is both in her world and nowhere. I’ve no thoughts of my mine but those that pass through me from wherever everything else comes from.
When I finished the first draft, a lot of her thoughts on life and death I couldn’t completely understand. And, of course, by some magic, I now do a little better. Maybe she had a point. How would you feel if you were to never die? I’m not sure what my thoughts would be but hers is… interesting, to say the least. An odd comparison from one eternity to another.