Partitions and limitations.

Every man supposes himself not to be fully understood; and if there is any truth in him, if he rests at last on the divine soul, I see not how it can be otherwise. The last chamber, the last closet, he must feel was never opened; there is always a residuum unknown, unanalyzable. That is every man believes that he has a greater possibility. Ralph Waldo Emerson This could take some tangential twists… I was introduced to Mr Emerson by someone who once told me “our moods do not believe in each other”. The person in question was telling me that we were in two separate places whilst trying to forge a connection; I had wondered in what context it had came from and so I read Mr Emerson’s essay “Circles”. I tend not to read such writings often because whilst I find them enlightening, I also find myself getting frustrated at how convoluted some can be. However whilst making

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The parasitic horde

Day Four A story in a single image On occasion she was driven to great despair over the human race. Looking at this mass of trees was one such occasion; made worse by the hill walking family she’d encountered further back along the path. The little boy had been so enamoured with the “forest” as he’d called it, this horde of parasitic organisms that were assassinating the land deserved no such accolade. She often wondered who was at fault for the situation; someone on the top rungs of the ladder, no doubt, but how far up the ladder was the worrying part. The question that brought on her despair…was it selfishness and greed or just utter ignorance and stupidity? Reforestation was a good idea in theory however choosing a species of tree not native to the country without seemingly researching it effectively should have thrown up flags to someone at least. It was a perfect candidate after all, quick growing,

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Secret

Day Three – One word inspiration Secret Secrets are like bricks, the more you have the heavier you become. They pile up and pile up until they crush you. Depending on the secret other people can get caught under the rubble as well. Why do we keep things from each other? Is it because we are scared of how other people will react to it? Is it because we don’t want to hurt other people’s feelings? Or is it because having that thing that they don’t know about gives us a rush? There isn’t a word for it, the simultaneous feeling of when your stomach drops out and your palms are sweating but you’re not scared, and you can feel the butterflies but you can’t jump up and down or make high-pitched unintelligible noises even though you’re excited. Secrets are sensuous lovers that caress every inch of you and get you addicted to them and then make you terrified that

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A spot of self-examination.

Day two –  write a list Things I’m Good At Thinking of a witty comeback about five minutes after it is required in a conversation. Being by myself, I can keep myself amused for hours as long as I have different things to do or distract me. Trying new things – this is a recent development, mostly spurred from being forced to try things I didn’t previously like; food being the main perpetrator. Until recently I didn’t like fish, any fish, especially not shellfish. Now it feels like a mini adventure every time I try something new, even when its scallops. Making dirty dishes disappear – I will be sat reading and I will have finished my dinner with the plate still in front of me and elves will come and make it disappear before I finish my chapter. Public transport – I am fine with most modes, especially my own to feet, mostly anything that means I don’t have

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The recesses of my mind

Since the end of April I have felt a bit of a lull in my ideas for posts, I think it has something to do with the fact that I posted so many things in April that I felt a bit worn out. To get myself back into the swing of things I went looking for inspiration and stumbled across a Daily Post course called Finding Everyday Inspiration, a twenty day challenge to get me back into writing and to help me find some inspiration. I’m not going to post them up everyday, I’m going to spread this one out a bit…here is day one. Why do you write? I write because…for as long as I can remember I’ve had dreams. Vivid and eccentric and completely nonsensical dreams. It’s like having a mini movie playing in my head but its not linear. It comes together like layers, sometimes I jump from one layer to the next and even though its

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