• myrrhc 30w

    "there is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion."
    —edgar allan poe

    i don't know which phrase do we have to leave from edgar allan poe's statement, should it have been something that makes it clearer but doesn't deviate from its particular meaning. formula derivations, from a particular root, which alter the equation in proportion to what is needed in play. does the worth of a dollar change if you substitute its first quarter to its last?

    "there is no strangeness without some exquisite beauty in the proportion," and i couldn't tell if synonyms commit the same crime.

    my brother always preferred milk over coffee, and i the other way around. mornings with either cereal or cream don't really have much of a difference for lactose intolerance. whenever the body reacts dramatically, mom would worry while dad would just nod. he'd always come knocking to say "you should avoid it for your mom at least," but a little rebellious to sneak in a portion of his ice cream when chances aren't at bay.

    suffocation always fit the ocean, mom once said when she refused to go swimming with us. dad never understood what drove that fear when time grew. he said that there was something always in link with the sky and the sea, not the color, but the way it feels. yet i always knew that the moon wasn't much of an interest to mom. "it's just the moon," she'd say as she spent just a split second fraction to take a glimpse of it in the binoculars, yet it only looked the same for her as to every moment i'd tell it's following us back home.

    there were instances when they left for a walk and the night was quiet for some time. i'd play chess against myself, but always tend to lose over the best probable moves thrown back. i mean, i do give way for recklessness to allow myself to win. definitely not biased that way. yet to think of it, perhaps time and its courses have the same thought: to remain in a straight line whilst staying secondary to space impingement. maybe one can always claim victory against itself when consistently in a battle against constancy, and that's only if a partial has the right to claim a win against its whole.

    can your mind really win against you?

    mom and dad seemed like polar opposites in my opinion, but of the same value. the square root of one belonging to itself becomes an endless stream of equals. a box inside a box inside a box of more. maybe i couldn't understand my mom the way my dad does, and i'd eternally remain wondering. but there's one thing i do know, that people can choose not to stray no matter the loss and severity of situations. perhaps, there's always something about the sky and the sea i could never ponder. we're all just interrogatives of each other waiting to be answered i guess. for there is no exquisite derivation without some variables in the proportion.

    thank you, @writersnetwork . ^^.

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