What a world. France on the way, Temagami in the summer. Grandchildren. Hell, if you’d asked me where I’d be when I was this age, I would have said dead from drunken rock star status as one of the world’s most influential and beloved authors.
Instead, it’s slow liver failure in obscurity, surrounded by family and no friends, having published nothing.
But also, having travelled and made love and enjoyed at least part of my time. I feel like I’ve grown more than some, which is itself a feat.
Enjoyment of the simple is the new credo, the complexity born of which is the only truly grand thing in nature.
Complexity from complexity is vanity and the pretense of cleverness; it has little to no bearing on reality or quality.
The complexity of simplicity, however? Of such all great things are born.
Target: 1300 words
Written: 2757 words, novel: Father Lightning