It’s not you think you thought you did. It’s you did.
Everybody is allowed to think, every human has a though, people think all the time, this cannot be denied.
It’s the act upon the thought of the thinking. Thinking the thought, tells us you think! Because you were thinking you knew what you were doing which cannot be denied.
The archer appeared to him standing to face. The brightness alone frightened him, he looked to his right, then washed his eyes over the crowd, he looked to his left, then another step back, the shadow of his right arm is visible through his closed eyes.
He said; “Hey wait a minute. How come I can’t see?” She said; come with me.
He said; “how come it’s so bright?” She said; it’s OK you can come with me.
He said; “Who are you?” She said; it’s OK you are safe you can come with me.
He said; “I don’t go with strangers.” She said; come with me.
He said; “I can’t go with you I need to see the residue.”
He struggled to open his eyes the need to watch for the residue became stronger than the light he opened his eyes he could see people all around him but it peers to be a great I in the blackness closed in on him shutting tight until there was nothing. He woke-up back in the washroom back to where it all started he’s back, One score one line.
He knows now what he is, he is what he wanted, an angel.
“Wait a minute!”, he called up at the worn ceiling. ” In a shit house?” Then he’s distracted by somebody going to the sink to wash their hands. He needs to watch for residue. “This isn’t over?” He stood at the sink. “That’s it. Pick at skin like a little fat hen.” He took time to laugh, then said, “thimble. Or plastic finger fitters.” He laughed loud repeating, “finger-fitters?” He looked back to the ceiling quite content, “this is going to be fun. But it still ain’t over, we’re talking.”
Another woman came to the sink, she just looked in the mirror, fixed her hair then showed herself her teeth. He looked to the door, that thought came back. Wall walking.
He flashed a smirk, then paid more attention back to the sink, a young girl is scrubbing her hands. He grimaced at her two fingers on her right hand lootarred up, it looked as though she’s been smoking all her life.