It's pulling with it something as it plods along, but I cannot see what it is.
What was it there in I Samuel? What chord did I strike that now some echo is still resonating inside me? I can't see it - I can't make out it's shape.
It reminded me of old, classic novels and characters who you hated and yet... Or is it just me? Am I clinging to something? It's unsettling as I sit, drowsily, comfortable in my orange Gettysburg hoodie, poking at my garnet-gleaming class ring.
It's a dark image, yet clear and sharp somehow. Like the rustling of leaves, the feeling that you are looking for something despite the fact that you have long since forgotten what it was. Blind Awareness.
Maybe I will solve the riddle someday; or perhaps I will forget all traces of it.
It does leave me uneasy, though.
There is trouble where there are the men of Benjamin! And donkeys always have interesting stories...