I am sitting on a large lawn in a park on a sunny day. It’s springtime, the weather is cool and few people are out. I am cross-legged on a small rise at the far end of this little slice of nature, and yet the whole world surrounds me. The cool shade of the woods is just behind me, and while a light wind rustles the leaves in the trees, a young couple stroll past and the park is empty.

I begin gazing softly at the blades of grass around my legs and time passes. An object, no, a small red ball, rolls slowly into the edges of my vision. It comes closer, rolling uphill towards me, until it stops within arm’s distance of where I sit. Here it sits, directly in front of me. Now a few more balls, different sizes and colors, roll toward me, each stopping a few feet away. Then more, and more and more.

They are coming from down the hill, from both sides and from behind me, increasing in quantity and variety. It is as if I am a ball-magnet – there is no resisting this attractive force, but I just sit, more curious of my immediate surroundings filling with these balls than anything else.

These balls come and they come, more sizes and colors than I could begin to imagine. Patterns displayed by the balls become patterns displayed by their placement around me – they are all in their places when no more arrive. There is order and purpose to the layout of spheres around me. It is like sitting in a field of colorful wildflowers, only these are balls. Still, this doesn’t seem strange to me. I am surrounded by these spherical realities, all those things that I have done in my life, and all that continues to exist. I am surrounded by spherical potentials in my life, unrealized truths awaiting to be born in their turn, awaiting their queue that must be issued by me. They await in a metaphysical queue and I am their gatekeeper.

At the perimeter of these satellites that now surround me is a shadow. I look slowly up and directly in front of me is a pair of feet with two legs attached. My eyes move upwards past some knees and on to a waistline. I continue – hands, lower arms and stomach, a chest, shoulders and neck, and then a face.

This is the face of a very tall and large, black man. I say tall because he is tall – maybe 7 feet. I say large because he is the largest man I have ever seen. I say black because his skin was black. I don’t say Amero-African or any other race because I know he could come from anywhere. I know he does come from anywhere – anywhere but here.

His lips are moving as he speaks to me, but I hear no sound. I tell him this as his lips continue to move. Now they move more slowly, with his intent to be understood, I now understand. I can read these old lips as they sound out in my head – “How … are … you … feeling?”

How am I feeling? “I’m feeling great,” I reply. “Thanks for asking.”

His face now changes slowly, expressing simple pleasure at my response. He is a quite gentle, very large, old man. While he smiles, he slowly acquires a distinctly reptilian look, a genuine reptilian structure, but still with a smile on his face (Have you ever seen a lizard smile? From what I hear, they are not the type to smile, and apparently not very pleasant to be around, but in this case – I must emphatically disagree).

He begins to fade away – to disappear in a transparent kind of mist right before my eyes, until he is gone. Merde, I was really hoping to carry on with this one, to commune some more, but I somehow knew I would be seeing this one again.

Meanwhile, my collection of colored and patterned spheres remain….

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