I lay myself open with arms splayed out, waiting. Whatever comes out of me can only come from within. I look at my fingers on the keyboard, waiting to be told what to do.
Mind and Eye discuss the look of Hands. Heart admires their aspect. Heart is sentimental. Mind fights with Heart about it, it’s one of their favorite arguments.
Mind likes to keep things orderly. Heart wants Mind to remember, to indulge in the past. Heart leads Mind down a path of memories. Mind gets distracted. Fingers stop.
It’s no different than anything else: you make a pattern in the sand with a stick, admire the pattern for the feeling it gives you, and smile. The tide comes closer, the pattern starts to break apart, the waves take it back out to sea.
Make a new pattern, smile, ship…