Beth and I had a difficult discussion this morning. We had our coffee somewhat in silence, each knowing we one of us had to start the conversation about how we were going to proceed with H. At breakfast I suggested we consider whatever we develop as a plan should be thought of as a bridge plan until Maya and Spencer return. Beth agreed. Since it was Sunday I asked Beth if she wanted to walk and talk. I think Beth likes the walks. Beth said, “We just need to avoid H.”
I was more concerned with H’s motives, which might help us better understand her potential future actions. I said, “Beth, we would benefit knowing as much about H as possible, to better understand what she is up to and what is valuable in her objectives. This might help us understand what she might do next to support her goals.”
Beth thought about that for a moment, then agreed and said, “Let’s visit with Alex this afternoon, get to know him a bit better.”
I could see where Beth was going with this. We needed to flank H while building strength in our own flank, being Alex and the police force, as well a start our intelligence gathering on H.
We did visit with Alex for an hour in the early afternoon, and then had to get home. We had invited Ukpik to dinner. The visit with Alex was informal, more of a relationship building visit, so no news from that, other than Jack is fading with each day. Although, he did say that a few of our new guests in town are friends of H, from Ottawa.
At dinner with Ukpik we updated him with our new strategy to keep the survival buildout going, swearing him to secrecy.
In all, both a relaxing and productive day.
Beth fell asleep a few minutes ago. I’m about to pick up the “Complete Works of Shakespeare” and read until I fall asleep. I’ve been having this strange dream that contains an old leather bound folio, a book of sorts, rather big, about 14 x 16, and in the background an old library full of similar leather bound books, this one containing pages of music, complex scores, interleaved with that cube of energy somewhere between here and Alpha Centauri, that cube that contains, is full of wavelengths from any star that is visible, and those that aren’t. Falling to sleep to poetry, wind in the sails sending me to dreams of music of the cosmos.
With a tip of the hat to 100 Naked Words, and inspired by What I learnt after writing a Medium post every day for 2 months by Shirley Lee, (364) The Evolution of Finding Shit to Write About Every Day for a Damn Year, and following my own advice, I’m setting upon the journey to write a very short story per day, a sketch, nothing special, yet perhaps a slight improvement over the previous day. The idea is that every day, in and of itself, is its own adventure, its own story. The framework for these short stories loosely happen within the context of the draft of “One,” the second part of time.
Who is Hank M. Greene?
“I am what I said I am, a storyteller. But, you may be asking, from whence did I come and to where do I go? ‘Ten’ holds the key to where I go, and it’s to be determined from whence I came.”
Read the draft of Book 1: Ten by Hank M. Greene @ https://sites.google.com/view/time-a-trilogy/
Twitter at @hankmgreene or https://twitter.com/hankmgreene
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