Blue fingers of winter

The room is gloomy now, but it's okay. Anyway it feels warmer than the figures slowly walking past, towards the light, the amber refuge from the razor chill of the air outside.

I couldn't help him today, even though he asked me to. I couldn't get to his level, but then again, maybe he never wanted me to.

When do people want you to get to their level, really? Surely it's just enough for them to utter their grievances, have another nod in recognition, and that's plenty for them. Why would they want someone to solve the issue for them? The issue is familiar - upsetting, yes - but familiar and unchallenged. Progress challenges, dealing with things challenges, and challenge has been evolved out of us, like a virus, a debilitation. A weakness in the perfection of what we are.

We can sit still for a very, very long time. We have developed it into a skill, something that can carry us through existence successfully. Keep still - if you don't, you might be spotted. You might be exposed, and asked to prove yourself. Even if it's just to yourself, you might get put on the spot.

Reveal what you're capable of. You don't ever need to, but reveal it anyway.

Meet two events half way, rather than completely going the journey on one.

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