Some days have more import than others. Some days cling in one's memory -- a day of lust perhaps, or a day of mourning, will haunt and sometimes totally reactivate your thinking. Other days are like this one -- no sense of deja vu here. No clinging memories or bright moments of incandescent strength here. Just ordinary -- heaps and heaps of ordinary.
Don't know why that is. Don't understand the mechanics of changelessness -- the real shape of ordinary. But there it is. No romances will ever blossom on such a day. No spectacular decisions will be hammered home into a prescient outlook. Just the same. Today is just the same. The same as what, you ask? The same as same -- ordinary.
No comments:
Post a Comment