The Seas

There was a little old boat in the rear, left corner of my backyard. The boat was aluminum, small with two bench seats across the beam, and while my memory of this is equally as small, I remember tiny glimpses of the little old boat.
I remember me, sitting in the boat with a life preserver that was perhaps bigger than my entire body. This is my first memory of her. We were fishing someplace near City Island.
I somehow caught a little starfish, if I’m not mistaken. This was before we moved out to The Island and away from my birthplace in Queens.

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The Ingredients Of My Craft

I look at where I was in the beginning and I come to the same sentiment as I did back then. In whichever way possible and by any means necessary, I made a commitment to myself to create and recreate me on a daily basis for the rest of my life.
I have to want to improve in order for me to be better. I have to see where I am in an honest perspective.

There are times when even the strongest denial cannot blind the eyes to the obvious. In my case, I knew there was a need for change.
But how?
Is it really possible for someone to change?

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Just a Notion

I go back to that word again. I go back to the word “Friends” and think to myself, what is this?
What is a friend?

What is friendship?

What is the relationship between others and me?

Is this friendship?

Is everyone that says they’re a friend, really a friend, or is this just a contract, or is friendship nothing more than a social construct, or a notion based upon a semi-emotional agreement, or is it an idea, or better yet, is this just an invention between people?

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