When it comes to an apple falling from a tree,
Some would be glad it didn't fall on their head.
Some would say go to philosophy, that the apple never falls too far from the tree.
Some may go to science like Newton and found the laws of motion.
"Have a heart," his parting words, when I said I wanted to stop picking apples.
It must have been filial piety.
Or maybe I was afraid of a big apple falling on my head.
Or maybe I was afraid that picking apples is something within my ancestry. I'm not sure.
There's joys within apple picking, the thrills within the repetition of rhythm.
I've already told myself I am not a man of science. More or less.
"What do you believe in?!" she yelled.
I ignored the question and unloaded my baggage.
With pin point sharpness and sequence.
That hit a spot. I knew what I believed in.
I guess not. But I do now.
I think.
"I have cash!" another visceral image poured out from my core memory.
I was likely around 7? What would Harry Potter do?
A blazing beam clashing against another, between the forces of reality and imagination!
Connect the dots man.
Am I standing naked in a blizzard and wondering why it's cold?
Dig deeper.
And there it is. A bit of here and there.
Gaps amongst holes. Inadequacy!
Dig deeper, my friend.
Ebony.
Charcoal.
Onyx.
Jet.
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