Pure amature I am
| A man sat on top of a hill staring out on a scene of A WIDE SLOW MOVING RIVER THAT EMPTIED INTO THE OCEAN. How he came to be there he did not know. It was the FIFTH time that year that this had happened. He remembered walking the dog, then waking up here, fully clothed, and not a scratch on him but soaked to the bone and freezing cold.
Every time he found himself here he was completely mystified of how it came to be. One minute walking the dog in a life mysteriously put out of his mind, the next shivering on top of the hill by the river. Very perplexing. Not knowing where he had been, what he was doing or for how long he had been gone. His next problem was of the foggy, elusive memories of where he actually belonged, it has to be somewhere.
These thoughts came from the fact he was fully clothed and the feeling of incredibly strong LOVE he felt at the sight of the woman almost sprinting up the hill toward him. Another mystery. This feeling of love he compared to the river, huge, constant volume, and the flow into something larger and greater. A confusing emotion at the simple sight of an unrecognized woman running toward him. At this moment he was flotsam in his own feelings. Uncertain of origin or purpose.
When the woman arrived in tears he was overwhelmed with the feeling of helplessness and said, "What's wrong? How can I help?" To which she replied "Come home with me now and rest. I love you and tomorrow you will know that you love me too." Puzzled once more wondering is this my sister, my wife, a lover or something more? Back to feeling like everything unknown, he would follow, and trust her and that strange half knowlege of love to her home. His home?
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