A morning walk in Pasco, Florida

Linguistic sinkholes. They’re everywhere: I’m dreaming I’m daydreaming; words swirl about, coalescing into a nascent thought: “It seems I’m increasingly...” When Boom! The ground beneath me drops away. I’m freefalling into an immense cavern of verbal completions for that innocent, and now most likely stillborn, thought. The shock of this sudden unmooring from solidity ensures I‘ll be unable to formulate any meaningful terminus.

No fruitful conclusion. No tenet to live by.

I languidly reach towards the words and phrases floating nearby. They all prove too slippery for my grasp.