From a literal standpoint, fresh starts and new beginnings do not, nor cannot exist. Everything you had previously experienced, all the things you’ve done, can be forgotten, yet never expunged. The journey is never over, there can only be chapters and tracks. Yet with brand new words upon untarnished page, each syllable commencing was forged from some other time. All knowledge you’ve acquired, all languages you’ve learned, all the contextual applications and the transposition that’s occurred, each of these and all of them, will forever lure you’re mind back to infancy again. In such times of happenstance, perhaps through rolling blackouts, dreams or simply glimmer lasting mere seconds, counted by hand but never reaching thumb, a connection occurs, linking the person you are now, or the one you are trying to become, with the abandoned persona you’ve left, in search of another one.
All shapes have lines, whether straight or curved. Some hang open, without a second touching it’s ends. Others bend and twist again and again, abutting other lines and more. Simple lines dictate nothing more than what a line appears in form. Yet when two lines meet, perhaps with an angle between, slightly touching at endpoints, only to expand the distance as horizons wend, together they create something larger than what they were as ones. If four are scattered about the floor, a mess could be seen or possibilities to explore. Bend the rigidness or a line, a round shape it turns out to be. In this new format it can enter spaces previously reserved for two or three. Connect to another of its kind, a circle it may be seen. But in the end there’s only one, the line it used to be, laying dormant, making plots and ploys subconsciously, affecting the shape you see that’s made.
And so, like the circle, we return to beginnings. While change is always admirable and innovative design quite essential, the past cannot be simply forgotten or buried as it’s weight will return at some point later, reminding you who you used to be. So fresh cannot be concrete, as at someplace, the past forms the basis for all you’ve built upon and the strength of which, is the place where all futures call its present home.