Story from 130818

writing story

published 1970-01-01 00:00

updated 1970-01-01 00:00

%date 130818 00:00

Over the course of the small segment of time I can rightfully claim to be mine, there's been no dearth of ignorance or incompetence. Killing time has always been my favorite passion. The mechanical movement with which I shift my foot from one position to the next never was of any consequence. Though in the long run you could identify it with my character. Everybody has a distinct step. Mine was filled with the rest that seemed to vanish everytime I awoke. The divinity of the unconcious mind was a miracle far beyond understanding. Sleep could not be represented through actions and you could not play it. It was not a human condition, not made from reason and devoured by the mind, it superseded even primal insticts of darkness; or perhaps stemmed from them. I couldn't tell. It didn't matter.