The Journey

Place and time are not inextricably interwoven.

In every moment, we carry with us the culmination of each and every past self.

In every interaction, we must relate with another individual, who likewise carries the burden of their past with them.

To further complicate matters (as if it was not already daunting enough), we are placed in a situation in which both histories are combined, like a lengthy formula, without knowledge of the other person’s variables.

Were that not enough… we additionally seem incapable of accurately relating to another those things which make up our past (and thus ourselves).

(Emotion)

(Memory)

(Cognitive process)

=Incommunicable.

It is impossible to convey the life sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence.

Perhaps it is even impossible to convey one’s existence at all.

      x!         ×         y!          = z
(person 1)       (person 2)

At any given time, there are two unknown variables, rendering any "answer" nothing more than conjecture.

In that week, I was so many versions of myself.

Usually, that would create conflict. But… for some unknown, magical reason, this time it didn’t.

This time was different.

There was something about that place…

Something that changed me.

Something that unwound me and awakened me.

“Lover’s Lane” read the street sign on that cool August night.

For the first time that week, I felt the twinge.

2AM. We stand in the driveway for a moment

Too soon he beckons toward the door.

Just another minute, I reply.

.

.

.

Silence.

He counts binary in his head

As I count stars.

(Citations: Quote by Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness)