The proverbial bridge had burned, but one question remained: Could we be salvaged? The charred ash of fundamental stability was holding onto the remaining beams that kept us together.
What would happen If I let the wind guide me and I fell deep into the waters? An elderly man was walking along the pier, gazing out into the water. Surely he would save me. I pictured the water piercing my skin, the ice cold current digging thousands of tiny blades in my body.
The fact was this: people don’t change, they become stealthier at hiding their true selves. A cloak of decadent and distracting colors if you will.
Whether protecting him or protecting myself, I dilute the white lies in white wine and carry on with our dinner.
Stories. Novels Books Life Within our modern society, we are living in a world surrounded by stories. Whatever situation in which you find yourself in, the good or the bad, these are all stories to share. As I make my evening commute from Ryerson to my…