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Thursday, September 25, 2014

The man who changed clothes. By John von Daler

                       Well, well. You have to keep up with the times! said Turner to himself. He looked in the closet. Deep it was. And broad. Turner threw nothing away. But he did push the old things into the back. Let the new take over! he thought. Fresh air for the mind!

                There had been lots of periods. Not that he could remember them, but if he wanted to he could just plunge into the closet and see the attirements and acquirements of times past: among other things, Turner had dressed as an adman, a hippie, a yuppie, a soldier and a politician. The colors and shapes of the bearers of ideas filled the deep, long room. But today he felt new times coming on.
                Turner looked in the mirror at his naked body. No statement there! It's like an ipad that's turned off, he thought.
Needs definition, support, consensus! An app for being human!
                He already knew what the next was going to be. It had occurred to him that he lacked beliefs. But which belief?
Turner was in no hurry. He did not need to find his new style. It would find him. So he waited it out in the #clothes at hand.
                Right here at this place Turner's author halts, dissatisfied, not wanting to create a character he dislikes, but finding something familiar, understandable in the man. Thinking about Turner's impending beliefs, he remembers the words of #Yeats:
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
                The author stops writing now the same way he stops to look at a mirror before going out - to ask one simple question of his own reflection: Is what I look like what I am? As usual, the answer confounds him.

My book,
is not about
It's about
music, love, free will, words, morality, and much more.
Click on 
the picture
to buy "Pieces".

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