The curtains in his mind between remembered past and observed present grew thinner with each passing year, a diaphanous membrane of inconsistent transparency.
The world began to seem as a dream, the long-dead stopping by for conversation or advice, the not-yet-born asking to be named. Places too, for his mind held no fixed geography.
Passages between far-flung cities connected them like rooms in a house, so moment to moment he would be standing in his boyhood Glasgow and then in Greenwich Village.
To onlookers he was a smiling old man sitting on a bench, but his inward life was limitless.
This is lovely writing.
Lovely, lovely writing indeed. So beautifully told.
Nicely done and may he be smiling gently until the end.
Nicely drawn visualization of the old man’s state of mind.
Nicely done visualization of an old man’s state of mind.
Yes this is indeed a beautifully captured piece; his mind holding no fixed geography, i love that
I LOVE this! The atmosphere, the changes that come with age, living inside one’s own mind. Excellent.
Nicely told. Enjoyed reading it.
Beautiful! So true for so many of us, once we’d had sufficient life to admit it … 🙂
Loved this