part of a letter sent to a friend, written 10,19,02:
I thought I'd describe a feeling I get sometimes, where you feel small. You feel like a watchful eye, seeing things forever with just one glance, taking in each fact, color, texture, and remembering. Each thing is large. Each color is important. I wonder about the history of each item, where it has been, what events wonderful or tragic this object has sat by and witnessed. I walk to where ever I am going and reach there frustrated and sad. This is because of the feeling that I'm describing: As I walk to my destination I pass people. Objects, items, are not the same as people. The story of an object can be powerful. But a person? Each person's life is interwoven with tragedy and happiness, personalities and characteristics, friends and stories to tell. Each person is another world, another perspective on life. I think of how we're each closed... not too many people are open when it comes to their private worlds. And that is what I see as I go to my destination. A private world here, a private world there... I see each person as a large endeavor. That's a massive understatement but I can't think of better or simpler words. Each person is a story, a poem. Each person is a book. So many of us have locks on the covers.

And sometimes I don't even know what my point is. :) but still, I enjoy making points. Now the fun part is to figure out for myself what I mean.
*sigh... I need a nap. ;)