it has been a while.

and strange how in such a small span of time, so many things can happen. too many perhaps that they meld into each other, like melted multicolored wax dripping from your fingertips...

how many versions, how many sides of a story should be told to know for certain the entire truth of what really happened? how many voices should one listen to so as a whole picture, with colors so crisp, could be formed of a story that takes different shape every time it is told?

and it repeats itself again and again. taking new meaning every time. chances are taken and choices are made. and the story goes on and on. little death. minor resurrection.

how many times does it take for fresh a beginning to become a stale way to start things?