1001

A thousand posts lie in this story. A thousand notes of days and nights of years that have passed. It was a silly endeavor that turned into a habit and now it remembers my steps when I do not. Sometimes it seems a thousand journeys should have reached further. Tonight I can't believe how far we've come.

I paced for hours around the Words today, feeling my mind recede into its dull back corners (as it will and as it must, it seems, to approach them). Eventually that familiar feeling swept over me and my veins turned to ink, my tongue to words on paper. I thought, as I always do, this is love, and the feeling washed away all the others. When I write, there is nothing else that can harm me; I am complete.

One thousand and one tales
rest at your feet now.
That is all.

That is only the beginning.