How long does a life progress without building on the foundation of another? Life primarily exists as it is fueled more life, at the very least, it is an effective system for beings of higher cognitive function. Is it noble to aspire to such heights, knowing the stepping stones one has trod upon?
And yet, all stand on the shoulders of giants.

Happy Clean Filthy Friday~.

A chance is a dangerous prospect, and something not to be missed. With one blow you cleave a tree trunk, or your ankle. A moments thought can leave a lifetime of worry, or be one step forgotten on the road to success. Each decision melds into one another, each cause and effect blending with it. Until the point, where many experience it as a mere, neutral, grey.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Is the wander down the road of life mandatory? Is it an undeniable urge seeded within the infant before its conception? Is it the common goal of a grand subconscious? Perhaps it is not a choice, perhaps we cannot leave the path. Kept on it by the machinations of an affecting force.
Or perhaps it does not exist until it is viewed. The moment the veil is pulled and we look down, we become able to see the road for what it is.
Until then, let us keep gazing at the overhang of stars.

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Wash your hooves, and get some candy ready~. You never know who will come visit.

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Dark, is the road, stretching beyond our vision. Few see its end, some are wise to it, yet once you have reached that point, your journey is set to change. Wherever we saunter, endings come. Even our time on the road. Thoughts to be considered, but not consumed by.

Today's post brought to you by the absent of the mark after K, because sometimes keyboards break.

Have a Great Fithy Friday~.

screaming into the void
mindless thoughts from pandora

What will someone see if they look into my eyes?

Hope? Blues and greens intertwined, a brightness and attention that feeds light inwards and out? The conscious watchfulness of a listener hand in hand with the hermeneutic disassembly of my ego? Id?

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Wash your hands~.

To seek gemstones one does not uncover glimmer and scintillant forms. There lay not grandeur nestled beneath your feet, waiting for a palm to reach it. A gem is as its element, dirt. Rocks and filth crust it, dulled to a point where treasure hunters would pass it by. But one who truly seeks gemstones is patient, meticulous, and pours in the effort to polish rocks into things of beauty.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Days pass as footsteps, the prints on the road below us, those we never get to see, which we never experience fully. Each step precedes another, always a focus on the new, yet all we see of the days are the diffuse outlines we entertain within our recollection. Even if we were to turn, the past of the road is shrouded, cast in dusk of neglect. Yet, many spends their days marveling at this very abyss, while others could care less, for the road is unending, and there are always more steps to be

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What is dance? A celebration of life and togetherness? A gesture to the elements? A distraction? It functions this way, as many tasks do. The practitioner is engulfed in the act, disappearing into their focus. At the same time, they rob the focus from the watcher, interlocking them in a chain of distractive influence, allowing the world around them to fade away. To dance then, is meaningless.
However, the first interpretation was right on the money.

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Today comes the first of a 2 parter, a treacherously lewd and filthy combat contest between griffons. You could say it is a cockfight. With slightly higher stakes, and more actual cocks.

Why. Because?

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Today we have a warm, comfortable tale brewing, one only coming round every once in a while. To cherish and care and for.

What is lost won't leave our side. Transient encounters leave n impact, and what we attribute a short length in reality has sown its root within our minds and beings long before. Some see clouds of greed, othes see a flurry of opportunity.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

So as of today, I've finished The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli, and The Dictator's Handbook: Why Good Behavior is Almost Always Good Politics. I've been taking careful notes of the three books I've read total (of which there is 61 pages and almost 20k words of), and of future events in War Against the Sun as well. Rest assured, it will come, but probably not as soon as you expect.

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I wish to remain inside. Inside, this place I have crafted, this state of emotions which I have kept in balance, where I can languish in peace. Though, were I to screen reality out, it would soon come knocking. So I pretend, I appease, and I worry, if reality will remain outside.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Dreary days pass and in their wake leave footprints. Dreary shoes dig down in mud and sculpt their image on the road. Tired legs struggle through their aching muscles, moving forward once and again. For the path their footprints lay, turns solid ground for the next wanderer.

Happy Black Friday~.

Today we have a new story about a changeling, left to their own devices in the aftermath of the canterlot struggle, and the lewd ways he recovers and satisfies their hunger.

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One can strive without strife.
There will be pressure, there will be resistance, though without it, there is stagnation.
Would I wade through the waterfall, were there no current?
Would I rest in a dry valley?
There will come a time, there will require action, though in constant use, it wears thin.
One can strive without strife.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Memory. We talk of our memory, of events in the past, so often with grand words of certainty. I know this happened, that is how it happened, you did this. And yet, our memory is the ghosts of shadows coloured by our own perspectives, beliefs, and moods. Memory and the past, both are representations fabricated within our minds. Fleeting.
If memory is fickle, then what is Knowledge or Wisdom?
Knowledge is the information we known in the know.

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We continue this week with another chapter in the "Of the year" series. Within, we see how the festivities culminates, and if all is going according to plan.

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Sweet memories. What I base my knowledge on, what I base everything on. Everything that colours and warps my perspective, found somewhere in a secluded or pronounced cloud of colours, locations and faces. Without those, there is nothing. There is no path to walk, if I lack the context for walking. But looking back, were I able to see it all, I could surmise where I am going.
In a sense, my past is the map to my future.

Happy Filthy Friday~.