Every now and again, I find myself going over things I have documented before. Reviewing the archives, as it were. An excavation of memory and perspective, looking at the stories, omens, riddles, hymns, lessons, and observations contained therein.
It is an interesting little exercise, to say the least. Looking back with twenty-twenty hindsight. It's queerly amusing to see what was important back then compared to the here and now. The style and tone of metaphoric voice. If one tries hard enough, it can almost be heard, echoing within the vacuum.
There was a period of about six years where I did little documentation upon paper in black India ink. The medium was almost all electronic. Upon the strands of the spider's web, there are fantastical stories and fairly personal musings. I also catch the little hints my past life left for my present incarnation. Since I am the only one in possession of that Rosetta Stone within the walls of my skull, I am the only one who can rightly decipher those riddles, hints, allegations, and things better left unsaid. There are just silly little trivialities. All shards of the complete whole.
Snake casing its tail, things come full circle. The form of medium has changed. Once more, I concentrate more upon pen and paper. I find it satisfying. A little more personal than even this, although I still sometimes speak in my riddle tongue of dragons, as to insure my privacy. Call it a quirk.
Oh, I keep in touch. There are still stories and observations I would like to share. And I am always watching, because, well, I like to watch. I just don't know, and, can longer promise, the frequency, or, lack thereof, when it comes to the medium of the electronic.
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