There is nothing to write, but I will write anyway, for surely if the plug is removed, some clear water will come, after I flush the scum. Still nothing, yet this is something, if little. Yet from little seeds, huge trees are felled and made into books.. A twisted analogy, or a metaphor, I wonder what the difference is? [Leaves to look it up].. [Returns]. Well I am somewhat enlightened, yet not entirely, The analogy is an explicit comparison, one of reality, the metaphor is implicit, not necessarily a literal comparison at all. In short it seems a metaphor is an analogy for the imaginative. Then there is ‘Allegory’ which I stumbled upon, hmm, this is a story with a second depth, another meaning. So close, yet in many ways they do not overlap. Subtle ways to steer a mind towards an intention, without giving ones agenda away. All sorts of disagreeables can agree to what they thought they did not, just by putting a thought in a different context. In a snap they can be un-hypnotised. What a wonderful thought, to think that a hateful mind could be reset with a different view. What a naive thought, hoho. But out there somewhere is the cure for stupidity, just a minute, I think it is knowledge. Cracked it! Then I continue, there are words after all, ah, the tap is spitting rust again, perhaps a knock to the faucet, but the clear water is from a far away well. Glug glug, drip, drip. Sigh, is it proper english to write ‘sigh’? Perhaps ‘He gave a sigh’ or ‘There was no sigh deep enough’, I should have perhaps quoted myself ‘sigh’, yet I do not say sigh, I’ll go with *sigh* an action, unwritten officially, maybe. Not that I am writing in proper english anyway, whatever that might mean in an ever-evolving language. Something eloquent, away from any hip or temporary slang. Poncey or pretentious? Well, I hope not. Just elegant as I see it. A sentence un-shortened, at just the right flow is a beautiful thing to behold. Crisply dancing to imaginary music, a waltzing sentence barely touches the floor.
In the corner of the room, barely noticeable, hush as a whisper, the end of the world began. We had time of course, the end of the world was very ponderous, or should I say languid, as the end did not show one sign of wavering. If it was found sooner, before it spread throughout the house.. well, it would have made no difference. Probably would have just made the last days more stressful.
The ship is heaving and crashing in contradiction to my stomach. Every crash sends my stomach up, every heave sends it to the deck. The mast is heaving too, creaking at the strain of too much sail. The captain is obstinate, he will sink another boat in his bloody minded quest to beat the wind and sea. Take us poor souls too in his mania. Surely mutiny is not as offensive as following a captain to the depths. Yet the crew are busying themselves bailing and sewing sails, to send them up to tear once more. I can feel the strain in every beam, we will never again see the shore.
A snake, a dragon, scaled down.