Error is like a guide that pushes me through the crumpled pages of bad writings, flapping their wings on me in a dark cosmic space, where my hands and feet shall never touch the light of a concrete like a desk with pencil and paper.
A desk with pencil and paper I begin my exploration of the intangibles, reminiscences redefined inside my skull, where truths and lies penetrate and intertwine to a deadly tangled ball of colourful threads,
that may live the rest of its life being pawed by kittens. A molasses of bountiful errors these pictures are founded, conceivably and unreliably.
Conceivably and unreliably l look out on a highway drive to distant trees that snail by, zooming pass the lonely row of lampposts like a flash through memory lane. An opalescent sky, stars in the constellation collide. Stellar parallax, our earth remains a planet.
Our earth remains a planet I lie on scratchy grass, crisscrossing on fields where sunflowers smile in their shapes and sizes, snow that melts the iciest of hearts and trees asleep in corpses from blizzard storm.
Summer and winter with their season relatives in between, With breaks they calmly carousel through the year as they try to visit each other.
Errors in life cause a certain stillness, a mark, a trace, a permanence in history, that closes the gap for us to reach the truth of the universe. As of the Silk Road for trades in Han dynasty,
may hold a clandestine affair as of the romance in Titanic. The Silk Road reminded from this bundle of fallacy writings, how strangely my errors in life, have beautifully gravitated me to you.
Jadiebutterfly Always the truth 🦋