Life

Imagining

The Silent Eye

It was a weird night. Dreams that were more akin to nightmare bothered me until I woke, reaching for a comfort I failed to find as I slid out on the other side of sleep and the insistent clamouring of stories waiting to be told. I woke to the sun streaming in on the aching tension of muscles that seemed not to have relaxed and rested. I got up and walked the dog, and all the while the back of my mind was attempting to deal with the dreams that are supposed to be a processing of the day and of memory.

It is a strange thing, this ability of images to affect us. Whether it is the eternal cuteness of the kittens that pepper the internet that make us go Awww in spite of ourselves, the faded snapshot of a loved one, or an image called up in the…

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