As I write the 2nd novel, as I reread what I’ve written, write what I’ve thought I’ve thrown away, I can’t help but reflect on Everyone & Everything… I look back at old poetry and think, “What is this? Was I really that sad? Has my view of the World changed or matured?” I try and deconstruct the work, but nothing feels the same. With these thoughts, I consider even more what I’m about to write, what I should write, what I am capable and incapable of writing. I feel the weight of the past pressing on the present. What I have now are 36 pages and 4 Beginnings: I hated the 1st attempt at the 2nd novel so much, I commenced a 2nd; I hated the 2nd one so much, I started a 3rd; I hated the 3rd one so much, I attempted a 4th. So, now I have 4 very different beginnings for the vision I can’t seem to get off the ground. Who is this character? Who am I? And what is this place? “I just wish to capture Beauty,” I tell myself, “unearth meaning, capture it, hold it, wonder at it like an alien child.” And with that, Fragments in time fall into Being, again.