I was thinking the other day about some random memories, I will share the earliest of which with you..t’s a little strange as this memory is in the third person, so maybe it never happened, or at least, didn’t quite happen as I remembered it. I remember picking up a rock on a pebble Beach, it was a large  black rock and as very smooth. There were thousands of pebbles around and as I inspected the rock I was holding, I realised it smelled of salt…within a few seconds of picking it up, I threw it like a shock-put shouting something like “Here is the stick rock!” and it cracked on a rock in front of my mind’s eye of the memory. That is to say, I watched myself throw a rock from a distance and it broke on the rock that my eye would have been resting on. At that angle I can see something shining inside and myself walking towards the broken rock. When I pick it up, my memory returns to first person and inside there are sparkling gems, like a geode. That’s all I remember…

This ceiling is so high, it’s like my personal sky, in all the time that has gone by, the days and nights I rest my eyes, as each day comes as a surprise, my mood becomes blue, then starts to rise, to amazing feats of happieness, peaks, and then comes down to rest, in a small scrawl of fleeting breath, those things that seem in such a mess, can be bested. And become less of a worry, a small flurry of trangled clamity, so managable once you know how. Your on top again my friend, don’t turn around, or you will soon return to ground.