Absolutely Miles Away …too many clouds, too little time…

a sendoff

I’ll not make much sense as my breath is heavy, but i’m ready to be sent on a navigational nightmare from here to anywhere via here and there. Packed into a tiny crate with only information for comfort. Unable to connect with anything other than my own headwires and reams of data. Paper, spreadsheets, laptops, endless lists of things to get done, to organise, to plough through.

I am overcome with the sickness of worry once more, and try to take leave of the crated transportation, but when the padlock was clicked shut, the key was put on the shelf of where i was posted from. If i circumnavigate the globe without opening the crate, not knowing what is outside, once i arrive back i can be opened up once more.

Until then it may be a while. I shall miss the fresh air and the mimosa and rose scented evenings stumbling their way along to crispness.

Don’t think of me. I won’t be there.

It sounds desperate as information is rarely comforting, especially the kind that comes from gadgets, papers and wires. Might just as well open up, for the crisp evenings, doubtless, miss you as well. Don’t think, act.

It is possible to think too much. I have been guilty of it many times… even now…

Please pack a compass. Always pack a compass. You will, anyway, even if you don’t realise it, because we all have a compass. It’s an old, antique one, sealed in a shining brass case, ready to be flicked open when you discover it in the junkshop that lurks at the back of everyone’s head …

colin: despite wishing it were untrue, i have found a small hidingplace in messes of data, formations of letters, numbers and symbols. perhaps sometimes it is much more difficult to act than think.

andophiroxia: is there a sensible “limit”?

mr. witness: absolutelymilesaway v1.3 does appear to ship with a fairly *********e compass.

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