Life isn’t really linear. Although it’s generally perceived that way. The stories we tell are woven like snakes around a divining rod. A center of time containing all that’s ever been told and heard. Remembered and forgotten. Lost and found. Our pasts, presents and futures are unwound, stretched flat, cut into pieces and held up with human arms.

The painter knew the mirror lied. And the canvas told the truth.

If time is linear, every moment is new! Monotony is just an experience of Ignorance!

In the end there is only light and dark. And the two are not so far apart.

I have a different way of thinking. I think synergistically. I'm not linear in thinking, I'm not very logical.

It’s hard to say where a story begins and ends. You have to draw an arbitrary line somewhere. Somewhere between perception and reality. Between what is spoken and what is heard. Between what is written and what is edited out. I know this, you can’t have an ending without a beginning. Even if they are really just random pieces of the middle that tend to stand out. Staccato notes on the page. Points on a circle.