Dear Oak Ridge Visitor,
I've been very curious about you for a while now. Many questions run through my head like the man who sits and thinks all day. Like that man who sits and thinks but cannot see for his eyes do not work like yours and mine, I wonder if I know those who pass by me. By some random act of chance, do I know ye who passes by my blog? By some random act of chance, does the man who sits and thinks without really sitting or thinking know those who pass by him? And what about those who come back repeatedly? Does he recognize their name, or how they speak, or the sound of the footsteps? Does he notice that they come back repeatedly and wonder why they do such a thing? Does he wonder, as I do, if he knows this person, or at least does this person know him? By some random act of chance? Maybe they weren't close, but maybe they were...in a different soul or a different life? Or maybe they knew each other in a strange dream and each one has the same exact way of being as they had in the dream. Or maybe...maybe there is something wrong with the Feedjit thingy at the bottom, and it just picks me up as the Oak Ridge visitor...Maybe there's something wrong and the man who sits and thinks without really sitting and thinking thinks he recognizes a repeated visitor when it's really just the air-conditioning turning on, or someone flushing a toilet, or his own, barely touchable, thoughts that imagine the breath and the touch and the footsteps for him. Maybe there's just something messing with our heads
....
^5/16/11
[Update: man = human. I know someone who lives there, but I was just going with whatever passed through my fingers, in this case. Maybe it will make you think. I hope so, anyways. I don't know where I was going with it, and I will tag it as unfinished, but I don't want to touch it right now. Also, I don't know what picture I was talking about. Maybe now, this can be the picture. Or maybe, someday, the finished product can be the picture. Or maybe, another day, the second take at this, a sister letter, could be the picture alongside this one.]
I've been very curious about you for a while now. Many questions run through my head like the man who sits and thinks all day. Like that man who sits and thinks but cannot see for his eyes do not work like yours and mine, I wonder if I know those who pass by me. By some random act of chance, do I know ye who passes by my blog? By some random act of chance, does the man who sits and thinks without really sitting or thinking know those who pass by him? And what about those who come back repeatedly? Does he recognize their name, or how they speak, or the sound of the footsteps? Does he notice that they come back repeatedly and wonder why they do such a thing? Does he wonder, as I do, if he knows this person, or at least does this person know him? By some random act of chance? Maybe they weren't close, but maybe they were...in a different soul or a different life? Or maybe they knew each other in a strange dream and each one has the same exact way of being as they had in the dream. Or maybe...maybe there is something wrong with the Feedjit thingy at the bottom, and it just picks me up as the Oak Ridge visitor...Maybe there's something wrong and the man who sits and thinks without really sitting and thinking thinks he recognizes a repeated visitor when it's really just the air-conditioning turning on, or someone flushing a toilet, or his own, barely touchable, thoughts that imagine the breath and the touch and the footsteps for him. Maybe there's just something messing with our heads
....
^5/16/11
[Update: man = human. I know someone who lives there, but I was just going with whatever passed through my fingers, in this case. Maybe it will make you think. I hope so, anyways. I don't know where I was going with it, and I will tag it as unfinished, but I don't want to touch it right now. Also, I don't know what picture I was talking about. Maybe now, this can be the picture. Or maybe, someday, the finished product can be the picture. Or maybe, another day, the second take at this, a sister letter, could be the picture alongside this one.]
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