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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/6-6-2020
by Ned
Rated: 13+ · Book · Entertainment · #2199980
Thoughts destined to be washed away by the tides of life.
I've been studying my cover photo for a while now, and it seems to me that it is more than just a photo of what is there that can be seen, more than just three white rocks stacked on a beach. It contains an important question about the future, about what happens long after the photographer has gone. What will happen to our pile of stones when the tide comes in? Will it topple or has the architect built this structure at a safe distance?

I don't know what will happen to these words that I stack here on the sand. They may prove safely distant, or they may be swallowed up by a rush of self-doubt. They may be here for a season. They may lose their balance and be scattered by the shoreline, or be hidden away under shifting sands. Perhaps someday, the tides of life will reclaim them.


Or maybe that's just a bunch of poetic, romantic nonsense. After all, this is just a blog.




June 6, 2020 at 8:24am
June 6, 2020 at 8:24am
#985099
I have done the unthinkable and purchased some coffee pods. It has always been my contention that making one cup of coffee at a time indicates a serious lack of intent to drink it by the gallon. But since the demise of the coffee pot, I have been left with a kindly gifted Flexbrew system that uses a tiny basket for single cup brewing with coffee grounds, or a basket that holds a K-cup. I don't mind filling a basket with grounds for a single cup of coffee, but I detest the mess of emptying it, Three times, In the morning. Asleep during at least one of those times,

So, pods. They lure you with convenience. They use your laziness against you. They know your clumsiness is at its height in the morning, magnified by your groggy state. "Coffee! And Quickly!" your inner voice screams while your outer, and quite numb, fingers spill coffee everywhere. So, the pod. It's already done for you. Even if you do drop it on the floor, it doesn't spill.

They have me, now. I have succumbed.


"The Bard's Hall Contest


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/blog/nordicnoir/day/6-6-2020