1. an act or instance of talking to oneself
2. lines in which a character reveals his or her thoughts to the audience, but not to the other characters, by speaking as if to himself or herself
Origin: soliloquium – solus, alone and loqui, to speak
Caught between two windows…
I house the sweet kiss of summer upon one cheek while the chilled fingers of winter stroke at the curls caressing my neck, I count the stars and map history upon them, kiss the first rays of sunlight with prayer and make love to the witching hour on the regular. I believe that silence is it’s own language and tomorrow is already written. I couldn’t live without my phone … it’s my lifeline! Coffee roasted mornings are a must!! Coffee… O! The smooth sensual warmth… coffee! Dancehall never fails to move my hips and Miles Davis makes me croon “Oooh… that’s some kind of Jazz”. White peaches are the nectar of Heaven, love is precious and a smile should never be taken for granted. Human touch is essential to a healthy humanity, music is the language of the soul, the scent of rain is intoxicating, the tender words of a lover can mend a broken heart and it’s OK to fail… let me catch my breath then repeat that…
-takes a deep breath and exhales, slowly-
Yes! It really is OK to fail! There is a lesson in every experience no matter how meaningless it appears!
Did you know that ‘wantings’ become habit and some would say, we’re all slaves to our addictions. What am I addicted to besides coffee…? My pen. I’m addicted to my pen; the way it feels as I cradle its smooth cold surface in my hand, the comfort as it warms to my touch, the way it glides over blank white pages that are devoid of any form of character or personality with just enough weight and just enough friction that I feel the slow purposeful sculpting of each delectable word as it spills my mental wanderings on the page like a wineglass filled to overflowing, ceremoniously contorting my cognition’s into a rather flavorsome conference, a sweet state of equilibrium. The pen is my beloved friend.. yes indeed, ink feathering is the melody of my soul.
Memories are an ever increasing structural relationship expanding and changing over time due an increase in experience which leads to a modification and expansion of schema. Cognitive development is central to (us, the human organism) and language a contingent of… perhaps this is why I find reading people so much more fascinating than watching them. While 85+% of communication is non-verbal and I find it fascinating observing this oftentimes subconscious display of personality and interaction, in different settings and while, on it’s own it lends itself to a conceivable and qualitative analysis of an individual impossible to do so without having that opportunity of observation, there is nothing rather so delicious as reading someones mental wanderings which are frequently spilled on empty pages absent from notions of voyeuristic readers, a little like myself.
I believe that thoughts can create an equation whereby habit becomes action and action creates consequence…
...mind your thoughts.
The fine print: I guess I should add that everything you read posted here is mine, unless otherwise stated; copyright held by yours truly… just ask, if you wish to use something. I don’t bite.. promise!
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