Graceless lady, you know who I am...

Fate is never fair. You are caught in a current much stronger than you are; struggle against it and you'll drown not just yourself but those who try to save you. Swim with it. and you'll survive. Realizing this, it is easier to understand why I couldn't have known that even this was a lie - that we never really choose, not entirely. We are always being pushed and squeezed down one road or another. We have no choice but to step forward, and then step forward again, and then step forward again; suddenly we find ourselves on a road we haven't chosen at all. But maybe happiness isn't in the choosing. Maybe it's in the fiction, in the pretending: that wherever we have ended up is where we intended to be all along.

Tip toe through bliss...

Back in one loop...

A beautiful stone vase in my kitchen created by the hard labor and sweat of his father. A game of chess that somehow reflects the journey he is currently on. The gleaming ivory pieces. The stern king. The haughty queen. The noble knight. The pious bishop. And the game itself, the way each piece contributed its individual power to the whole. It was simple. It was complex. It was savage; it was elegant. It was a dance; it was a war. It was finite and eternal. It was life in all its magnificent forms, taking shape only to once again disperse into countless seams of possibility. What configuration might it carve next? Something already seen and experienced? Something recognizable and within reach of understanding? Or perhaps something not of this world. Something so unique that it shall give birth to a new spirit ... a new universe. A new god.