The only thing more vexing than thoughts are impressions. Thoughts can be apprehended. They can be visibly regarded. Impressions move past with just a flicker of existence. They are fast in that I can only catch a glimpse. They are eternal in that I will forever wonder of their composition. With each flicker comes the sound of its message. With no words to convey its meaning, I am left with a symphony of flickers, chimes, and echoes as I stare blankly at whatever task has unfortunately ventured to my attention.
As music plays in my ears, I feel the movement. The flickers dance about with pattern, with purpose and with abandon.
Thoughts have weight. I feel them press against one another as they bustle about. Are you thinking? Why yes, I feel that I am.
Like children with far too much energy, these flickers and impressions can dominate thought and reduce my cognitive ability to embarrassing new lows.
I present an inquiry to this bustling highway of disaster. I find no sense in it. Somehow... the answer throws itself against the fiberglass. I gaze at the bright smear in awe. Occasionally deciphering this ink blot is quite simple. I blurt out my reply in a fashion that gives the impression that it t’was thoughtful. At other points, while I try to pick apart this meaning and how to express it, an awkward silence creeps over my audience. When my next words are not utterly profound, I can hear the question echoing in everyone’s mind... that’s it?
Heavy sigh. I pretend there is brilliance in here somewhere...
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