Lope's Thoughts

This morning, Life rang my doorbell wearing a hat made of Tuesday. I opened the door. “Why are you here?” “I'm bored,” it said. So I let it in. Big mistake. It drank my coffee, ate my last biscuit, and rearranged my problems alphabetically. My worries complained. Apparently, they don't like alphabetical order. Outside, a pigeon was arguing with the moon. The moon refused to apologize. The pigeon called a lawyer. I decided it was none of my business. Then I checked my plans for the day. They had disappeared. I found them hiding in the fridge between the milk and my forgotten ambitions. My biggest mistake was sitting on the kitchen counter, wearing sunglasses. “Don't look at me,” it said. “I wasn't.” “Yes, you were.” By afternoon, the sun had misplaced itself. The sky turned pink, the trees started whispering, and my shadow announced it was taking annual leave. “Where are you going?” “Somewhere without responsibilities.” “Can I come?” “No. You're my responsibility.” F...

There are questions that do not want an answer. They live beneath the tongue, quiet as buried rain, waiting for the hour when the heart becomes still enough to hear them breathing. I have carried one for years. I do not know its name. I only know that sometimes, when the world has gone to sleep and the moon hangs pale over the roofs of strangers, something in me remembers a place I have never been. A corridor without windows. A door without a room. A voice without a face calling me by a name I have never told anyone. I used to believe mystery belonged to darkness. I was wrong. Mystery is the light that enters a room and reveals what we were not ready to see. It is the pause between a question and its answer. The hand that almost touches yours on a crowded train. The letter never sent. The photograph of a childhood you cannot remember. The sudden ache for someone you have never met. Perhaps that is why we fear the unknown, not because it is empty, but because it may be full of things we...