Spartacus against Rome, Aristomenes against Sparta…it looks as though our lives have always been ones of constant fighting against slavers, as in Cloud Atlas
This venue, this medium to write as one wills is fascinating to me. It encourages horizons to spread invitingly. It beckons the mind to touch formerly unexplored possibilities and dissolve the mists of uncertainty and confusion around them. It is enticing, and it is daunting. Fascinated as I am, however, I feel as if trying to put on a suite that sits on my frame like I’m wearing a loose version of the skin of someone else.
How do I just wear the damned thing and be done with it? How do I make any needed alterations? Do I- mixing metaphors here- just swagger through this virgin territory or should I be more careful and conservative in my expression? I’m not sure. What is certain is that when I get into tap dancing my fingers across the keyboard, I care less and less about such details- until the tapping stops…
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