Yesterday, while sitting quietly for several hours at Rikkyo University in Ikebukuro, I was struck by an unexpected inspiration. The university itself was merely a place I had entered at random, yet in that stillness a curious vision gradually took shape. I imagined that, in my fifties, I would become both a renowned novelist and a singer-songwriter, performing with nothing more than a guitar.
What I find most curious is not the vision itself, but its timing. Nothing like this ever came to me in my youth, even though I possessed far greater energy and ambition then. I would have expected such dreams to belong to that earlier chapter of life. Instead, they have arrived only now, as if they had been waiting patiently for a different season before revealing themselves. Whether this is merely a passing fancy or the quiet emergence of a future that had long remained hidden, I cannot tell. Yet the experience has left me with the peculiar feeling that some aspirations do not announce themselves until one has lived long enough to recognize them.
It's Charlie originally from the planet Mars virtually enjoying the beaches in Pensacola, Florida. It is much more difficult to successfully recognize as true what looks totally false and is actually true than to successfully recognize as false what looks totally true and is actually false.