it all matters

thru ev’ry beating of events and every season

I find on my way

still there  ….

the burden of an eternal sentence of regret i do not want…. Beethoven —you understand 

   

A familiar walk down a side street

Elbow deep inside the filing cabinet including her head, she was about to call for Sheila, hoping she knew what had become of the file of the recent inventory printouts and the ones Pierre Reaux was requesting. The basement archives were always creepy to have to visit, but it’s where most of the property information was kept and with Grant nowhere around, she had to hunt through endless drawers of files. And Monsieur …. Since he could no longer freely trespass among us…. thanks to new border policies that were more insult than blow Faun thought for the French Canadian and then sighed —well, it was too bad as he kinda grew on her. He wasn’t so bad. Just annoying. Condescending. Often rude. So—what is his charm exactly? He was looking into the mystery person who was murdering the members of the Bishop family. 

He wanted the copies of another set of files that recently had gone missing as it had to do with Arthur’s older legal files and properties 

She heard a sound and assumed it was Sheila and as she turned she said, 

“Shiela, do you have any idea where or why the property lease and titles have suddenly gone missing?”

Faun said all that when she turned and saw who darkened the doorway holding an armful of files 

“Grant ….where have you been and why or how is it you ….” she lost momentum as she stammered limply, “suddenly show up now….?” as the sight of him made her aware of how starved of his very appearance she was. She fell silent and just stared at him. 

“You mean these?” as if this answer now had the more relevance —yet, he held the files in question 

“I have been overseeing since your absence because —believe it or not, our friendly Canadian pointed out awhile back that you likely needed my help whether or not you were aware I was even doing it ….so….um—how long have you been here?”

“No—I was just enjoying your rear view so—no not long….” his slow smile reminded her he was teasing her 

the master of evasions 

the universe always feels off whenever we fall out of each others orbit

24 Janusry 2025/Jm muse chron

Today I get a message from Josef asking me if I could remember to pack up some things he forgot to bring 

That is more than just one message; there are several in just that humble seemingly innocent request. 

I see it come up but I walk across the room. I think again of Manhattan —how long has it been …. 

The penthouse renovations would have been completed six months ago. Ilya has her hands full with three kids now. But all the carpentry and some interior details took the longest to complete. Historians had to be consulted to match colors and fixtures with the era 

So…. with the shadow Interpol director pretending to retire and wasn’t it Jörn who claimed he was his cover? Which poker face is not bluffing? They play off each other don’t they ….the sun on the longhouse from the dream ….i remember now.  The Folkmoot ….

It is usually only the boat and the hut from those dreams but ….there was the voyage and the stop at the ….island 

Everything though feels different now in such a way that lifts me and bathes everything in a brighter light…. I’ve been sketching again, and painted twelve hours straight on the mural …. I am me again or is it that I feel accepted fully for me? What peace this allows. Such flow of inspiration is renewed

The dove

She writes …..

    I look upon it all as would a monk in meditation 

        the cells we live inside 

                  the Cell

                             I ask —facing the light as daily I do need to know; what for ….and the silent answer loud is in reply …. You are upon it ! ….the words echo ever after ….worry not nuntius