Sunday, December 01, 2013

A Question

When I first started writing a daily post for release I didn't think about where it might lead. Just write a piece each day. Writing is that way. You start writing and off you go discovering hidden places and strange connections.

How did I get here? I never intended to arrive on this shore—but here I am. Today I reread some posts from early on and it's obvious that my pieces covered multiple subjects. Then as the months passed I returned or turned to particular subjects.

I realized that the word release belonged to me. My random selection of that particular star with the word release written on the back might be termed a pointer. A year isn't too long to wander about.

This is the year of the cone—in the beginning, or the top of an inverted cone— my writings reflected what I read, heard, thought about. Eclectic. As months passed the subjects narrowed down and a single strand kept pushing into view.

A puzzle, an enigma, an unraveling of words and a walking toward something. All journeys come to a terminus. I am close , but not there yet.

Will I recognize the last post? Some books end abruptly without any conclusion. The narrative arc doesn't come down. Am I an unreliable narrator of the past?

Are we unreliable narrators of our past or people who see through our own lenses?


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