Did you know pianos used to be called keyboards?

Spending a weekend with what’s left of the nuclear family — my mother, my sister, her husband and daughter (my brother in-law and niece) — along with my wife…

Building trust with family and friends based on our relation to one another, treating us as if our personalities and responses are set in stone, allowing each other to go off on tangents, knowing the circles that form our sets of states of energy are consistent boundaries/zones that provide a level of comfort not always to be expected from new friends or strangers…

Overcoming tiredness to write down one’s thoughts before they disappear into subconscious dreams that resolve daily conflicts…

What if everything that has been said or done and will be said or done could be reduced to one symbol (the infinity symbol not included)?

How often can we break down ourselves into our component parts until the self is no longer recognizable?

What are we rebuilding if we try to reconstruct ourselves?

To have new friends who are quick to trust me with what I am doing in writing fictional tales around our solid relationships while I work out plots and character back stories that may or may not align with real life, my thoughts occupied with parallel fictional/real lives while I try to grow and learn in real life AND my character’s life is too wonderful to describe.

Confusing, too.

But I’ve been here before, exploring thought trails with no road signs, sprinting blindly in the dark.

The risks are worth the rewards.

Can I be more alive in this moment when all my body asks for is sleeeeeep?

The next short story connecting lives in our future post-colonisation inner solar system alliance is ready to be written, but by a guy who’s had his overnight bedrest.

Time for some shuteye before the next chapter commences…