Well, if my boss were to look through the blinds of his window and over my shoulder to see me not working but instead adding a post to my blog I suppose I'd be in some hot water.
Tis all but a spot of bother, eh? Look at the bigger picture.
Days have melded into weeks, weeks into months and that's how things go here. Project after project, meeting the nice, the disgruntled, the interesting, the uppity, the uncaring, and the rest I've yet to meet. I suppose I'll update when I can on that matter. And yet now, I'm willing time to go by quicker because there's something about today that breeds restlessness and general rot of the mind.
Rot like the fray of a rope end slowly untwisting itself from all that holds it intact, loosening and soon, withering into mush that is of no use to anyone. Or in fact, presenting a hidden danger for the unwitting sailor who uses it to secure his climb up the mast to the crows nest.
Rot like the mush of vegetation no longer lush but a sickly greying brown useful only if swallowed by the earth to provide for future growth. Potential is after all better than that that has proven and fallen.
Potential, potency, potions... the pot of all flavours. There was a time when words would've flowed easily but like a rusted tap, it takes a few washes before the water is clear again and not a copper, blood-red color even as the tap coughs up what it can. Sputtering, the first few coughs when everyone holds their breath to see if it still works. And as the first drops flow, it elicits a sigh of relief. Or such would be the response of one whose only desperate source of water was this long-abandoned tap. A grunt and a sigh of disgust would be the response of one whose job was to get rid of what was no longer of use.
Like a tumor, rust could eat into the ground, poisoning it. But then mayhaps it only provides an extra mineral useful for one more resourceful than humans.
Ah people, they sit around and bide their time. What trace do we truly leave in this universe? With feet so small where can we tread to leave our mark forever?
Twenty minutes past five. This post has taken way too long to write.
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