The missile, unopened and extremely volatile.
Ernest Hemmingway penned a six word story, why shouldn't I? His was:
For Sale, Baby shoes, never worn.
They say it has a beginning and a middle and an end, like all good stories. I'm having difficulty identifying the beginning, it seems like a chicken and egg scenario. Maybe the beginning is an unborn child? Maybe the beginning is the act of putting up the sign. Is the end when the shoes are bought? Or is the end when the shoes are finally worn? Maybe it's neither of these things, maybe the sign stays there and nothing is done. It is passed by and considered but not acted upon. Like many things, it seems Hemmingway's words are particularly prescient now. We can learn from our past, we can improve and do better. Things forgotten suddenly hold new relevancy and power. Hemmingway's words... or a state report, out in the open, revealing dark secrets and unsettling truths.
Leaky pipes are always untimely and never desirable. The leak-er apologises but once done and the liquid flowed, reconciliation must be found where it pools and lands. New streams and rivulets break away, finding space where there never was before. Cracks can be patched, the damage smoothed but we all know that what's to come is the unwritten end.
xoxo For Sale, Baby shoes, never forget
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