Friends

Friends fading, friends faded, away … silence in the wake.

Nothing like it.  Well, maybe a painting … a well-done painting of a man in mourning, who is incognito.  And yet, how do I know that the man is mourning, if he is  … incognito? 

Because I am that man.

Late at night, post midnight, an incurable, insomniac … A false sense of security (F.S.S.): an illusion; a “fata morgana”, as somecall mirages in Antarctica. 

Antarctica at its finest
Antarctica at its finest (Photo credit: HamishM)

This illusion in the night, the sense that time has virtually stopped.  Noiselessness is a beautiful thing.

Noiselessness is not always a beautiful thing, but it is on this night (when this blog was penned in a notebook).

But time does not stop, and that is O-kay, really … because we cannot do anything about it … And, there is a plan in place, yes?  There are good things in store for me, for my family … even if time does not stop.

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