#1-55

A fan churns the invisible mass above me, and the open window provides freshness. I sit on the corner of my bed, legs crossed, with my laptop leaned against them. A fresh tissue is plucked to sooth my leaking nose, hopefully allowing clarity to my jumbled mind. How does one go about describing to another what a collection of 55 triggered thoughts can actually evoke as an experience, especially those from who many would say has not even seen the walks of life? I provide the cliché response of a question for a question, because I truly don’t know. But what has putting these 55 moments of my life in an order mirroring my sinusoidal being in a bound book with the integrity of a ten digit number done for me? The only thing any one of us asks for, a little bit of freedom.