Parcel Before The Toe

There are just so many things I try to talk about or not talk about. This blog is after all a public area accessible by everyone. This has always be my outlet and will continue to be. There's only so much I could hide in my car to scream, tear and swallow down and about all the crap this world delivers right to my doorstep. Not anywhere else but right smack in front of my big toe. When every step you take is in consideration of a bigger picture, the moment the artist withdraws the drawn, it will not just be a plain piece of canvas, it becomes an useless piece of dirty canvas. Time will wash this piece of canvas time and again and whether it regains it's former glory, it's an uncertainty we can hardly hold on to. Time will also play its part in aging the canvas. To some, it's vintage. To others, it's a piece of rag. To find the right jockey for the crippled horse may be a challenge, though not impossible but has anyone asked if the horse is too old or too tired to race the race?

Time is not the right chip, neither yours nor mine. Time is something none of us can stop or grab. It will slip away from you regardless of the number of steps that you're taking. Staring into space may be therapy to some but total wastage to others. Is silence and doing absolutely nothing a bad thing afterall? Would it allow repackaging, restructuring, resizing? To reshuffle is again, back to the initial drawing board. Too tired... Maybe taking a seat by the broken tree stump might salvage some integrity. Reshuffling...