When I walk I don’t look ahead - that’s too predictable for me. Sometimes I look behind, but that’s risky, especially on a sunny day or a Sunday. Instead I look down at what’s beneath my feet. You’d be surprised at the things I see.
Today it’s a smattering of puzzle pieces. Bright blue against pavement grey. Abandoned jigsaw logic. All eager protrusions and holes. Begging to be fitted together - to combine into sense amid nonsense. Scattered outside a churchyard - but that’s beside the point.
It means nothing to me. Absurdity amid antipathy. But to someone somewhere this is everything that they search for. Perhaps the missing pieces are those that will complete and reveal them.
Or perhaps, more likely, these are the bits that had to be lost. To leave a window to look through the picture we build up piece upon piece, layer upon layer, day upon day. Now that these pieces are gone - from her frame to mine - she can look through the blue to what lies beneath.
3 comments:
Everyone tells you to look straight ahead when you are walking along, so you can see where you're going. True, but I often think that the most interesting things are down there, overlooked by footsteps.
Superb. This could be read as a guide on how to make sure people lose their way.
You and clues! But you know exactly where it's at. x
For the past few days I'd been visiting your blog.... trying to go through all that you wrote... but perhaps, you can never go through things that are written.... I keep trying.
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