I have nothing important to say here. What do I write about? The tedious happenings of my day? Does that matter? Shouldn't I be occupied with more profound matters?
Many questions, and no answers. The most frustrating aspect - no one can supply the answers to me. I must find them myself. I must rely upon my own senses, my own choices, my own subjective solutions. Those are far more valuable than anything anyone could simply tell me! It was raining - hard, with cracks of lightening. I have not seen it rain so hard in a long time. I had a dream last night, the petty details which are not cause for any legitimate examination, but the climax was far more symbolic.
I had passed through trials, difficult times, and had been released alone into the street at night- beautiful, cool, with people, glowing signs, flowers. There was a parade and I sat on the sidelines, daylight now. I saw a white street with a cross at the end that cast a sweeping golden shadow. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed in relief. A little girl next to grasped my hand and smiled - "it's over now," she told me.