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. |
When I was young, I used to experience déjà-vu quite often. It was slightly disturbing to feel that I had lived through an exact moment before but not know where or when. Nowadays, they guess that déjà-vu is the result of a kind of hiccup in the hippocampus, confusing a present moment with a memory and causing a brief glitch in the memory matrix. They also say déjà-vu happens most frequently between the ages of 15 and 25. I realized the other day that I haven't had "déjà-vu" in years. I don't have "avant vu", either. That would be more useful, but whatever. I think mon déjà-vu a disparu. Je suis perdu. |