Goodbyes Are Overrated.

It's A Wonderful Thing, As A Writer, To Be Given Parameters And Walls And Barriers.

And I Would Try And Walk Far Enough Away That People Would Not Assume I Was With Him.

She Really Was Pretty, For A Grown-up Person, But When You Are Seven, Beauty Is An Abstraction, Not An Imperative. I Wonder What I Would Have Done If She Had Smiled At Me Like That Now: Whether I Would Have Handed My Mind Or My Heart Or My Identify To Her For The Asking, As My Father Did.

So Many Things To See, People To Do.

I Wondered How I Looked To Her, In That Place, And Knew That Even In A Place That Was Nothing But Knowledge That Was The One Thing I Could Not Know. That If I Look Inward I Would See Only Infinite Mirrors Staring Into Myself For Eternity.