It’s Got To Be Some

I Was Aware Too How Strange Adults Were, How Theirs Lives Were Vaster Than They Wanted Anyone To Realize, That They Actually Stretched On And On Like Deserts, Dry And Desolate, With An Unpredictable, Shifting Sea Of Dunes.

God, The Boring Relative Everyone Ignores--no One Calls, No One Writes--until They Need A Serious Favor.

Those Around You Can Have Their Novellas, Sweet, Their Short Stories Of Cliché And Coincidence, Occasionally Spiced Up With Tricks Of The Quirky, The Achingly Mundane, The Grotesque. A Few Will Even Cook Up Greek Tragedy, Those Born Into Misery, Destined To Die In Misery. But You, My Bride Of Quietness, You Will Craft Nothing Less Than Epic With Your Life. Out Of All Of Them, Your Story Will Be The One To Last.

I Was Aware Now, As Ever, That Between All People There Were First Times You See Them And Last Times You See Them.

The Late Great Horace Lloyd Swithin (1844-1917), British Essayist, Lecturer, Satirist, And Social Observer, Wrote In His Autobiographical Appointments, 1890-1901 (1902), "when One Travels Abroad, One Doesn't So Much Discover The Hidden Wonders Of The World, But The Hidden Wonders Of The Individuals With Whom One Is Traveling. They May Turn Out To Afford A Stirring View, A Rather Dull Landscape, Or A Terrain So Treacherous One Finds It's Best To Forget The Entire Affair And Return Home.