Wednesday, June 28, 2006


He walked along the shore line for a long time, trying to get his thoughts in place, rearranging his feelings and emotions, so he could finally convince himself he was sane, and just as mad as the rest of the world. He watched as the sun set slowly, the round outline becoming one with the flat line of the sea. The edges blurred after a while, and he started walking again. A little distance ahead was a wall, an old broken down wall that looked like it had, once upon a time, been part of a much larger structure. It was made of red sandstone, speckled with shiny dots that shone in the crimson light of the setting sun. There were pieces of sea shells of myriad hues in the rock. Parts of the wall had collapsed, and there were places where the stones looked like they had been eroded by the sea. The wall had given way to the whims of nature and humans alike, allowing both to pass through without resistance. He ran his hand along the stones, feeling the roughness of the stone, and thought ruefully, he had considered himself a wall once.

People faltered, ideas mutated, and decisions wavered. Sanity was like red sandstone wall, porous, jagged, and firm for the most part, but often broken down in places to accommodate the rest of the world.


Anonymous said...

What crap is that?

iNFiNiteSaDNeSS said...

Ah, I see the simile is lost.