Ten apples and a flat sponge

You move on.

Or rather, the world moves on, and you find yourself carried along with it. Time is a tide impossible to resist. Swimming against it is pointless flailing limbs.

The other day I was walking down the street, and a car pulled out of a driveway just ahead of me. The window was down and I had a straight view of the driver. She was a young woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was beautiful, and she was crying. Her face was pale and blotchy, her eyes were puffy, and her nose was red the way noses get when a person's been crying a long time.

I watched her crying and driving and I wondered what she'd lost.

I wanted to ask her: "What did you lose?"


I've been reading lj rather attentively. It helps a lot, for some reason. Livejournal is like so many rolled-down car windows, I peer inside and see all of you, crying as you drive. I look at you all and remember the things you've lost.

I wish I could fix it all. I want to give it all back. I want to bring your father back, and you, your beautiful girlfriend. I want to bring back the baby you lost. I want to make your cat better, and bring your dog back, and make your father better, make your little girl all better, and bring your own healthy body back. I want to give you a new kidney, you a new knee, and you a whole brand new start. I want Simon back.

But I can't do anything.
The condition of life is suffering, says buddha. So we keep driving, because we have no other choice.