I really don’t care that pocketwatch is supposed to be two words…
Some days, the world is your master. It takes you where it wants you to go and you’re absolutely a captive of circumstances. Some days, those circumstances can be avoided one at a time, but most will get through that filter. Other days, you need to make the absolute decision that your prerogative on whether or not the color blue is really the color blue should be entirely up to your discretion, and if you must, battle yourself with a broadsword and kite shield over such a cardinal and momentous opinion. No stone should be left undisturbed, you should be allowed to question a flower on why it chooses to dress itself the way it does and converse until it gives you an infallible reason, and theorize the cause of your own heartbeat.
Give yourself the grace to drown in whimsy and a pocketwatch. Perhaps a cup of coffee or glass of whiskey to accompany the grace.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a piece of chocolate that needs attending to, and a book that is eager for me to peruse its leaves. Its provocative beckoning is intoxicating. Lovely.
