mry writes

telling stories with words and pictures


musing

  • Most of history is unwritten

    *a musing* Most lives are unwritten, unrecorded, unacknowledged. Lost. The history of most places is unwritten. Lost. Unseen. Whichever way you point, whichever way you look, what you see, who you see, will one day be forgotten. The only question is when, not if. We will all be lost; names no one remembers; lives no Continue reading

  • On the Road

    *a brainfart* We are all on the road. You, me, the woman walking over there, the man in the rear seat on the bus, everyone you see, everyone you do not see. All are on the road. His road, her path, each and every journey of each and every person is different. All beginnings and Continue reading

  • Heretofore

    *a musing* Heretofore: *Up to this time; hitherto; before; in time past.* Heretofore hunters hunted; gatherers gathered; bearers bore. A black ooze oozed, and burned. Hunters declined to hunt; gatherers set down their baskets; bearers carried no more burdens. The lands provided; the lands provided; the lands died. Briefly, life flourished. Life, not satisfied, destroyed. Destroyed, life believed everything, and nothing. Continue reading

  • You do not have to be hard

    *a brainfart* You do not have to be hard to be strong. Consider wind, consider water. Oh, how mountains tremble before them. Continue reading

  • A slowly bending curve

    *a brainfart* Life is a slowly bending curve, one formed by many small changes. From a distant vantage life can seem to be a smooth flow of events, as though an innate force continually dampens the bumpiness. Up close, life is often more of a bumpy road: rutted, pitted with holes, full of muddy sections, Continue reading

  • The End Goal

    *a brainfart* Love is the end goal. It is the music of our lives. There is no obstacle that enough love cannot move. Continue reading

  • When a Bird Flies

    *a brainfart* When a bird flies overhead I wonder about the view it has. Does it realize, does it understand, what it sees? Does it ever gaze down in wonder, like a young child with their nose pressed to the window during their first flight? Continue reading