Today, I read a draft I wrote some years ago. A line jumped out of the page.
“Why do people live up to the expectations of their enemies, yet are suspicious of friends that warn them of adversity.”
It is funny how we focus on what “enemies” say, ultimately making it become flesh.
“Friends” cry out by the side, but we seldom listen.
I put enemies and friends in parentheses because the two buckets are connected at the bottom with a pipe of self-interest, with people moving between the two at will.
I am thankful for random drafts that escape the delete button, and stay long enough to be useful.