In Flight Tale

… traveling heightens sensitivity to all things big and small…little stories surface, while sitting on little seats suspended in large spaces of air:

Want. Her palpability for specificity is akin to a dandelion’s ideal location for sprouting. Interpersonal proximity is the inducer of such bulldozing, though, to claim her standing nearly as sturdy as an architectural structure would be an outright illusion.

Rather, her internal locatedness is similar, once again, to a dandelion’s ideal location for sprouting. When one, her mythological archetype, requests and expresses his relational blueprints, she religiously and faithfully adheres to a dangerous belief. Which is found in many forms: two cannot exist, difference cannot remain, one must pass away–thus she becomes, much to her dismay, but an illusion, an apparition to her own soul in the presence of the other.

She does, however, possess the right intelligence that distresses her normalized state of anxiety enough for her reality to veer off the beaten path–near the dandelions, of course–and, without much irony, closer to her floundering soul. This, dear weeds, is the beginning of an arduous, strenuous, manic, and lovely search for herself, for the other, for hereafter.

incidental remark: please infer this search as one that is with others, together finding veritas. 


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