epszi
The future is still: I know there are ideas glossed over that I can't see, but it is still in comparison to the electric realities I'm trying to perpetuate. Yet, at each turn the future proves to be tepid—unyielding to these more vibrant continuities.
Grandfather was a shepherd: every Friday we spent a few hours seated in that claustrophile's nook he called his "study", and he showed me my chess moves were predictable as a flock of sheep. But he guided my skills to higher levels.
Eight years old: my grandfather was a shepherd, to be certain, as he led me into the basement every Friday. There was a claustrophile's corner set up back there. We played chess. My bad moves flocked into his guiding hands. He turned them onto the right paths.