“We wouldn’t be able to fly”

~ brysonhatfield ~ Leave a comment

A lovely little reblog for you, Dear Reader
“the world is beautiful because you are you and they are them and the world would be less beautiful if you were them and they were you.”

Little Spud In The Big Apple

Q: Can you describe yourself for me, physically and emotionally?

A: Do you have any more specific parameters or is that…

Q: Nope. that’s… that’s it, just describe yourself.

A: Physically I am… smallish… athletic-ish… although extremely clumsy when not on the dance floor. I use a lot of hand gestures and excessively animated facial expressions. Emotionally, I am empathetic to a fault; I am able to listen to someone else’s opinion and absolutely just right now agree with that because I can see where they’re coming from even if I don’t. I feel like that defines a lot of who I am emotionally in so many ways because it leads me to be confused or extremely sure of myself or really connected or really disconnected or any of those things. I feel like that is one of the core causes I guess…

Q: Causes of…

A: For how I…

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Thinking Inkly: A Little Bit of Love for You

~ brysonhatfield ~ 1 Comment

I'm thinking about why I do this. Thinking about why this one way communication takes place between us. I'm thinking about what possesses me to be a part of this maddening process where I stay up hours and nights, dreaming and dozing and starting and nodding my way through the lines and the path and … Continue reading Thinking Inkly: A Little Bit of Love for You

Thinking Inkly: Understanding

~ brysonhatfield ~ Leave a comment

Currently thinking about the twists and turns of life; ruminating (attempting to reclaim the connotation of the word to be positive or perhaps neutral) on the uncanny idea that something so seemingly insignificant could have such an effect on a life. We begin at a source of information, an event that is current, or recently … Continue reading Thinking Inkly: Understanding

Twenty-four (or “Twenty-three Revisited”)

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Twenty-four. Twenty-three. He's the age of the pendulum. Adding slowly to the pile of years, he counts. Looking up from dusty cities with lamb-path streets, and following lonely roads to ice-coated highways and cities locked in pride of place. Twenty-three looks for the stupidity in his "wisdom," he looks for the peace in his "rage," … Continue reading Twenty-four (or “Twenty-three Revisited”)