Tick-tock!

Doubt.

Funny how it can unite or separate minds, depending on the moment it strikes.

Yesterday we went to mr jones' school, primarily to check out his lab, which i shall nickname the house of precision, cause it's all about that. It reminded me of this book i am reading (very slowly), 'Longitude' by Dava Sobel, and of the film 'The machinist'. Hmm. It was full of big and small machines, stolid and precise, all aspiring to fine tune tiny structures to their tiniest details. Even though the lab occupants seemed of perfect health and in no apparent need of sleep, nor any sightings of ghostly notes were reported, i couldn't help but wonder if the machines came alive at night, just to play at their whims. With the fellow residents, grave diamond cutters, white sapphires, permanent magnets and covalent crystals. Being all non precise.

Never knew the school was founded in memory of a son gone too soon. But it was undeniable, in the erected statues, laid bodies and in the grief-stricken fairy who wrapped her wings around her.

And there it was.

In the cold dark interior of the rooms full of machines, in the sunlit quad of the arched walkways, in the statued submission of citizen freedom, and in the young lass in a sailor dress on the train platform, my doubt found me.

And it kept taking form.

Like tall redwoods it stood in grounded certainty, like live oaks it branched in sprawling abundance - adorned with the thorns of the unattended cacti.

And like a lonely fragrant eucalyptus, there i stood, my beautiful rainbow bark bathing golden in the light of settling sun.

Refuting my surroundings.

At a distance, the beautiful tiles on the memorial reflected the sentiment from the Corinthians...

Love, faith, hope, charity. Who is the last one to stand?

Only time will tell.