Life is mostly a series of sentence fragments connected loosely by ellipses, commas, dashes.
Rarely, a semicolon shows up. When it does; it is used improperly.
How I wish life came in sentences, or the odd paragraph. A complete thought or experience self-contained from the surrounding experiences.
Oh, how I long for an act break. A full stop. An intermission with time to reflect—recognizing that what will follow may be a variation on the movement that just ended…but something ended!
Fall feels like a new beginning, only as I get older it feels like too many half-finished beginnings are still playing. It feels too rushed, too cacaphonous.
I’ve still got a time problem on my hands.