Sometimes, my mind is like a kaleidoscope and goes quickly from one condensed thought to another and I just let it happen. No one subject or memory makes me slow the pace and meander around, exploring that bit of the past. I don’t know if it is that I don’t want to get deep into emotions or if the series of flickering pictures is a practice session for the “life passing before  your eyes” experience  that people talk about when they sense death coming. Odd thing to write, I suppose, but odd often has interesting aspects, and should be appreciated . . . in moderation, I suppose.

What am I getting at? I know, I’m asking that also. I don’t know why I am writing basically nothing. I realize, though, that when I am thinking of nothing in particular, I notice the coolness of the glass in my hand, the hue of the sky, the warm weight of soft wool on my knees, the paintings on the wall that are always there, but I never seem to see, the pattern in the comforter thrown over the back of a wicker chair. It’s kind of pleasant.