one story, but differently told and differently understood

That’s reassuring, isn’t it? That we may still entertain ourselves in the retelling, since it will always be uniquely presented and we can only guess how others are hearing it.

For example: here it is – the same white dome, visible from my loft window, except maybe that wasn’t the first thing that caught your eye. Maybe it was the street, seen through the right corner of the window. Or the reflections of flowers. Or maybe you were taken by my blue sweater. It is an awfully nice sweater.




I had an encounter with a doctor – someone whom I had been seeing off and on for years now (he likes to sharpen his tools on various parts of me and then we part, ‘til the next time and the next) and I asked him – how long has it been since our first encounter? Ten years? More? Because I still remember the guy who came before him. He retired and then along came this one and I’m thinking in another ten years this one will be retiring. In the meantime, they scrape and cut and stitch in much the same way cavemen and women scraped and cut, only with different implements, accomplishing different tasks.

…And they fell in love and some had babies, others hunted animals, still others saved animals from the hunters.

Me, I noticed the white dome in the picture and then my face and only then the street in the right corner.