I think I have secrets known only to me and maybe a few others. But all "secrets" are simply my perceptions of the circumstances that existed and thus the conclusions that I may have drawn at the time. .... With my camera and eyes (or other senses), I occasionally feel a sense of discovery that captures a thought or two roaming around in the mind, then gels into a "secret" that, for a time, is mine alone ...
Isn't it amazing how the mind works? Like an unknown (or perhaps spiritual) seed really, once planted in the fertile mind may grow and become rooted - and take a form (the likes of which) I could never have imagined in advance ...
Then, are they really secrets? Are they dreams or merely recollections of my perceptions of a time now past? I only know that life would be so empty, should I fear imagining... and so empty too, should I fear remembering.
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