fake spring

the weather was a tease. back to cold temperatures and rainy days.

this photo captures that. the tree that wanted to bloom in spring. and is probably dead and bare by now. well that's a bleak image. apologies - but it's nature, not me.

reading the quiet american by graham greene. i love graham greene. i think we must have had similar souls. pretentious yes. but i still think it nonetheless.

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'You can rule me out,' I said. 'I'm not involved. Not involved,' I repeated. It had been an article of my creed. The human condition being what it was, let them fight, let them love, let them murder, I would not be involved. My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action--even an opinion is a kind of action.

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Time has its revenges, but revenges seem so often sour. Wouldn't we all do better not trying to understand, accepting the fact that no human being will ever understand another, not a wife a husband, a lover a mistress, nor a parent a child? Perhaps that's why men have invented God--a being capable of understanding. Perhaps if I wanted to be understood or to understand I would bam-boozle myself into belief, but I am a reporter; God exists only for leader-writers.

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i don't actually believe what graham greene writes, but i get the sentiment behind it is all.