The party was a rare case of going back. It seems, the ghosts I encounter with most frequency are those of memory. There, they were legion; vampires, punks, and try-too-hard-hipsters. I was invited. Baited, albeit unintentionally, for a trap.
Things change. Things stay stagnantly the same. Perhaps I am just too critical.
Someone said seeing me in an urban enviroment, so many years on, was the money shot. Legend. Apocrypha.
It was a fluke and invite; going back. Accidental time travel. See, as much fun as it could be to fuck with the quantum, the only constructive way is forward.
Is this really only a 100 words post? It's brilliant, as always you've told so much with so little words.
ReplyDeleteThank you. The initial draft was one-hundred sixteen, so I just had to trim some metaphorically unnecessary fat.
DeleteMagnificent words. I've had that feeling once or twice, myself. Didn't I do this already? Why am I here again? Have I not outgrown this?
ReplyDeleteOne of my favorite 100-words posts.
ReplyDeleteThat really got me thinking which is always a good testament to a blog post. So many ideas and so much said in so few words, wonderful.
ReplyDeleteAlways forward, as we used to say. Never straight.
ReplyDeleteSounds like an interesting evening...
Pearl
Yes, it was, to say the least. Thank you.
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