This is what I wrote the other night. (more then a month ago)
Theres a baby downstairs that cries, it roars crying like Al Pacino did in The Godfather, one of the most piercing and humiliating scenes I have ever seen in my life. When I hear that baby crying I can hear the sounds of an adult, crisply and clearly. It is an unhappy child. I hear that little thing open up like an orchestra and unleash a cry of disbelief and complete inability to contemplate the word Help.
The disconnect between mother and child, is subconscious; intrinsically, the mother loves the child naturally like any other mother would. However, somewhere buried deep within the realm of subconsciousness, lies an impasse. The predicament affords no luxuries to the owner. The disconnect, is an involuntary space between that, which makes a woman perform as a mother (and therefor the ability to recognize the babies directives), and the conscious mind. This impasse, is an irritant in the junction of thought streaming, which is where the mind breaks down the components of thought, and separates them into recognizable, and characterizable streams, relating to categories of psychological contemplation. This is how we produce thoughts also, where certain streams bind together to create an opinion or conviction. The amount of any particular stream dictates the direction, form and benevolence of the thought and ultimately influences any subsequent actions.
These streams are influenced by both internal pre-recognized experiences, which in of them selves are a packaged containers of streams varying in intensity depending on the circumstance, and new previously unreconciled ingredients which come together to generate convictions which are usually based on pre-established stream containers additional cumulative values.
