Awakening Connection An Inquisitive Mind and the Human Soul Avi remembered everything. He could see it in his mind’s eye, the rolling lawns of the garden, the weeping willow near the top where he would hide and wait to pounce on his friends or his brother and sister. ‘Cowboys and Indians’ was his favourite. He would often take the part of an Indian brave. A warrior. He would paint his face to strike fear into his enemy. Beyond the garden, there was a golf course which kept the house private. Avi loved the way the mind worked. He found memory fascinating. Seeking to remember everything, he trained himself. He practised. Testing himself, and was never so jubilant as when he succeeded. He was due to sit his exams this summer. The preparation had been hard, but he was ready. He had already picked out his preferred university choices. His untutored eyes saw them as bastions of freedom and learning. Avi didn’t like school much. It was boring. His teachers were boring. He had questions ...
There he sits his craggy face, crinkly eyes, and dreamy smile betraying the joy he feels inside. H e sits with fingers inked, Notes strewn over his lap. Not snoring, just the occasional yawn and a wrinkle of his nose, catching the scent of stew upon the stove. A curious fello w. At times he appears distracted, catching a nap like he does, by the fire. Don't fret. He's no quitter. He is one whose arms are wrapped tight around the muse. Whose very dreams bathe in the mystic pools of Story. For he is a writer don't you see? A wordsmith. A poet. Perhaps he's famous? He looks important don't you think? He could be, the wa y he wrinkled his nose like that. A Writer. Imagine that. Oh my word, a Writer. What a marvellous thing to be. 0
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