recurring theme

 The recurring theme of recent years (or is it a lifelong recurring theme?) is silence. The silence that comes when one messages a friend or lover from yesteryear and there is no response. There is no response for days, or weeks, or months, or eternity. They are simply gone. Disappeared into a vast vacuum of dark emptiness. And yet, I am happy alone, I am grateful for it. I feel as though I have made some immensely wise decision or found the true key to happiness. And small things fascinate me and bring me joy. For example; in the past, I have purchased second-hand books in which a previous owner has written their name, where they were, and the date in them. I have a copy of De Profundis, by Oscar Wilde, that I bought in England which is signed 1911. As a result, I have started to do the same… I write my name, date, and location inside a book when I buy one. Imagine, 100+ years from now someone finds a book that was marked by me, it may even have the bookmark still inside of it. Even more interesting is to take a book I have bought in the US and leave it in Europe, or vice versa. 

Silence is beautiful and sad… but it’s all that I have.


Oscar Wilde's De Profundis on the right and Goethe's Novel's & Tales on the left

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