white paper in, white paper out

let me introduce to you an old friend of mine.

it has no name; like all old furniture in the house have no names. yet as the years go by it has commanded its own seat of power in the living room, like all old furniture do. for 11 years it has sat there, upon its throne of 2 CD players older than itself, like the result of some haphazard city planning, the new built precariously upon the foundations of older structures. for 11 years it sat, churning out all sorts of essays (good and bad), research materials (just copy, paste and print, nevermind what's written on it), lengthy game walkthroughs, an occasional full-size colour picture.

well past its retirement age, my epson stylus colour 400 has recently learnt something new.

white paper in, white paper out.

just print out the document, old man. i'm not retiring you yet. not when i just fed you a new cartridge.

alone together

it was all two people could ever be to each other, he supposed. alone together. for the dreams and secrets of our hearts may be spoken, but words are handmaidens. words can never fully say, for they fumble, stammer, and break the best porcelain. the best one can hope for is to find along the way someone to share the path, content to walk in silence, for the heart communes best when it does not try to speak.

-page 374