15 Numbers puzzle
This WPC is personal to me and have I’ve given much thought to it. Yet may be off the mark for the challenge.
If you ever played this puzzle, you know you have to move numbered tiles around to get them in order.
In order to move one tile into place, a bunch of other tiles have to be moved
I think of this puzzle as part of my own life, for over the years you collect things and when others leave they leave a lot of their stuff behind
Sooner or later, you need to do something with all this stuff, move it, box it, if you just want to clean your home.
Do you sell it? Does it have any value? Do you donate it? Who wants it?
So how does this fit the category of “Quest”?
My quest going forward is to become a digital collector, take pictures of things I have and then get rid of them.
If I think I want something take a picture of it, I might view it more than if I owned it , taking up space on a shelve, in a draw, boxed away with the thought that someday you’ll have a place for it
Yard sale it, donate it and things that might have value “Craigslist” it.
Reduce, recycle, reconsider what it is that I really need or want.
A quest that one day when I leave
Most of my stuff will be on a card
Each day we start anew
With each step we take
We step over time
In the lines of shadows and light
For me, I start another year
My fifth year as the ‘Antilandscaper’
Where I started, it can be seen
Where I am, unfolds with each letter I type
Where I’m headed, not a clue
I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
I wanted to at least thank all of you
Who have visited, liked and offered comments
More importantly, to you who have shared your worlds in time
With pictures, thoughts and poetry
I have been to places I will never be
Thought of things, that never come to my mind
I have seen the shadows and light through your eyes
To all of you thank you
As we each take another step in time
It is not every evening
That the sun
Give us a display
As it says goodnight
A joy to view
And a pleasure in knowing
It is share with others
Two lines converse to a point
Grounded and wet stoned
For a finely honed edge
To glide across the surface plane
To remove a paper thin layer
A tool’s edge of craft and creatively
We move at a pace
The speed of sound and light
To live in a world
More and more unfamiliar
Sometimes you just have
To sit and wonder
Where are we headed?
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revealing my inner narrator
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