The canvas that is your world is diminishing by the day. Binding colors are closing in on you from each of the corners, holding your prospective design ever more in place.
Delegating to the imagination makes one more manager than man. As if cordoned off, sometimes I feel I am only half of what I’ve lived! And beware: middle age comes at the very end of life if you’ve only ever inhabited the middle ground, a safe distance from every edge.
Listen to me, you are not merely half of what you can do! You’ve been drugged into a normal stupor. Ghost steps can be reinhabited! Let these words be a sharpening turn, meant for a knife to better cut us out of this half-life!