What grows and what comes from these first tentative moments no-one ever knows. Sometimes it seems a whole world could grow from the gentle touch of someone’s fingertips on the skin of your face, tracing the shape of your cheek as though creating a significant memory out of a single moment. Other times it seems whole days, weeks even, can pass that leave nothing behind them, blowing like desert storms through our lives with only the shifting sands of time left behind to mark their passing.
We have no way of knowing what will matter as we stumble on through those desert storms, blindly groping our tentative way forward. There is no real choice but to go on, no route out we can follow. We have to carry on as day after day blows around us, stinging the eyes with the sharp moments they hurl into our faces.
We trudge on, hoping that soon, this storm, like every other storm, will one day blow itself out. Then we will be left here as the sky clears and the wind drops and – it seems – life begins again, comes out from where it sheltered against the worst ravages of the storm and shows us something just there on the distant horizon that could just be the vague shimmering outline of hope.
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