Lost the muse in mundane daily doings. Technology, creative and intense, sober, serious. Not fanciful, however, though perhaps in dreaming soft where knights fight dragons, bad men in black armor, and the princess calls down to her love all dressed in white. Or a mustachioed Mario, the inventive SIMS, or the very tough and sexy Lara Croft.
Saw a man the other day among the million in the mall. Attracted by his something or the other that I could not name, but recognized from time gone by, the feeling. He looked up for a moment, directly eye-to-eye and lingered like a hypodermic needle filled with essence that would course throughout my bloodstream and inoculate me, cure me, fix whatever’s wrong. Did he know he did that, did he plan it, was it just an absentminded thing he cannot help control.
Fantasy injected in my brain through eyes and body dancing, this drug that alters all reality by clouding it with unimportance, raising new kings and queens to lead the crystal world created in the mind.
I think I’m hearing and will tell a story soon.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology