Which experiences will I play, projected on the walls of my memory, called upon like an old friend? I pin up the lessons I've learned by a firm hand and a soft hand. Moments and moments of teachings reflecting myself and projecting my future as they pass through the front door of my imagination and out the window of my eyes. Is this the desire of my soul? Do I speak to confirm the truths that I've learned or do I speak to be taught of the flaws in my thoughts? Some words will fade away like stars in the day when I hire other orchestras play harmonies with what I have imagined... or foreseen. Is there a difference?.. Do you understand what I said when I meant to say what I did? Will you look ahead to design your patchwork square in a quilt that stretches farther than human eye can see? Eventually to eternity?