“How can I explain? Oh, it’s so hard to get on.” –Dylan, Visions of Johanna
Days pass. Years linger and hold our hands such that we regret their inevitable leave. Lives lived only some and yet another blooms the horizon, a beacon; we go. Those part of then, the sparse witnesses, have moved along the golden path turned grey.
Yours is yours and mine is mine; fate may have it they once or twice intertwine. Time may have it we look back on our mutual lines.
“I hate quotations, tell me what you know.” –Ralph Waldo Emerson