"I would love to believe that when I die I will live again, that some thinking, feeling, remembering part of me will continue. But as much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking."
I've been having nightmares, endlessly, for weeks now, every night. Should I be upset? Maybe. But I'm not, as it were. I'm loyal to the nightmares I have because in some way, they are the ones I have chosen.
Hardest part of the summer? Working. Not paid-working, but the work you know you need to do to keep your skills sharp and keep your mind keen. On the plus side, my portfolio is much nicer than it used to be, though I still have a long way to go. I've only just started to find my voice in a digital medium, but it's exciting. I know I've walked away from this blog for a long time, but the reason for that is simple: reading. I've always enjoyed it, obviously, but summer is one of my favourite times to read. It has a sense to it, a taste and weight in on my tongue, and to myself it feels like a paring down.
Sometimes I come across a line that shovels a million memories into my brain. Even a few simple words can reel me back to the a moment, hovering by the lake while wind washed across me like the water, or the sidewalks’ cold sunshine on bare feet when I ran - it brings me to things I would have forgotten, sensations that need to be pulled up now and then.
