The Story Becomes The VehicleEverything happens in circles,
Rotations that curve around a powerful body
Lines to intersect
I put the tape recorder on hold, and fiction from two years ago rolled from my fingers, deleting, deleting, deleting... deleting the main figure in an act of deliverance... deliberation... the lead was had
Rotations on an intersect course, re-navigated by the simple turn of a head... The pieces are in their places, let the analysis roll forth
I've only just begun to realise the obvious powers of honesty, and the delicate timing between words, and silence
In between moments of vision, the precious few that allow for enlightenment, the optimism has become tainted, and the stoic has a demand for his skills
Void of any description, but quite clear in his intentions, the tone tells the story, becomes the vehicle