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All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream, Dementia, Holding on, Lost somewhere in time, neurofibrillary tangles, Something is Broken - 80221 – Rhonda Shaw
The heavy curtains are drawn tight in the sitting room. Even though the sun is still rising it’s hot in here, and the air is so still I almost feel as though time has, for a span, halted altogether – unable to sustain itself in this place at all. Almost, but not quite, because he’s with us alright, and not alone either, for he harbours a criminal. And a low, iniquitous one at that.
You.
Thief.
I see the spaces where the objects of your desire once dwelt.
Cherished . . . irreplaceable.
Gone.
Whole lifetimes fade from a richly-hewn, vibrant clarity, into sheaves of translucent tissue paper captured in a fine, drizzling wind, as you pillage, you leach and bleach away the pages of past and present one by one, leaving behind a future that is naught but a vast, flickering screen, cut with confused and frightening moments.
You make strangers of the beloved.
I clasp her small, frail hand so very, very tightly.
Holding on to her.
Esme's Cloud 
Such depth, this 80220. Need I say, excellent?
No, excellent will not do.
“I see the spaces where the objects of your desire sat.” Relating.
I love that line. For I too, see the spaces, but in my own head where the objects of my desire once sat, stolen or murdered by time.
What shall we fill these empty spaces with, but the hollowed void of fading memories.
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I for one am filling some of mine with your comments. I mean that quite seriously, I’d not know what anyone thought of the pieces this place has me create without the bartering of words, and more than that, you don’t just enjoy what is written, you relate, you feel, you understand them as a whole. Not that others don’t mind you, for I am lucky that I have a few staunch followers who wish to remain and tune in to the same channel as myself and the Cloud. But you often tell me. Which helps a great deal as my powers of ESP are rubbish most of the time winks.
I don’t need to know what people think, and often times I am a-feared of what might be said, but when they speak of the fragments and poems as you do, it makes the whole world seem that bit brighter to me. A better place to be in fact. Thank you Peter. x
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I will be curious to learn about Rhonda Shaw and her “fun, sexy and humorous contemporary sports romance novels”
The President and Founder in front of the flickering screen
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Well this life occurred some time ago/to come, in another dimension so chances are she’d not be thanking anyone who told her about it in this one. gets out a ginormous brush and pan and sweeps him out of the room quick-smart.
Ahem.
sonmi covering her tracks upon the Cloud.
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Exquisitely written, with each word seeming perfectly chosen, and placed within a rhythm that allows them to dance freely amongst and in concert with others. When the words reach beyond the symbols they themselves are, that is art, and art is what has been made here.
I have had many encounters with the effects of these tangles, and seen wonderful, caring people weave their way into the person behind those effects; for they are there, hidden perhaps, but there as ever they were. The thief may steal the memories, but the person remains, transformed, but not in essence.
Many congratulations Sonmi; this is very fine writing in my opinion.
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I’m as close to being without words as I get H. I know people who can do just as you describe with words, and have never thought myself to be quite of that standard. But all one needs is to be that to one person, and so it is the case. So I thank you from the heart. I am honoured.
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I just looked at the section of ‘Simulcast Fragment’s’, but then realized I had liked this one already? I’m a little lost, but will hopefully find myself in the lost.. looking forward to it 🙂
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Yes, the section has been…not exactly hidden, (well no more than all the rest of my strangely names categories), more mooching about at the sidelines. I think adding a link to the place they all live every time one appears, will help with the navigation. Follow the trail of toast crumbs, you’ll be home before dark – nods a lot.
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