Only I don’t. That’s the point at which it becomes hypnotic
and I can’t tear myself away. I stand and watch it for ages, fascinated by all
that sinuous, searing energy striving ever upwards.
Water falls naturally to rest; fire rises naturally to
oblivion.
Which neat little sound byte leads me neatly into the
mystery of why, me being a fire sign astrologically, a disproportionate number
of the women with whom I’ve had close relationships have been water signs. At
least, it would if I felt so inclined. But I don’t.
2 comments:
And not air to fan the flames?
I'm afraid I'm a budding pyromaniac, constantly looking around for more to burn... but it is endlessly fascinating.
Come to think of it, there was a Libran lady a long time ago...
And my Chinese ghost was a Gemini...
Oh, well.
My pyromanic tendency first became apparent when I was about seven. I set the field alight behind the houses. Did you ever see the episode of Father Ted where Dougal becomes fixated on the red button in the plane cockpit that says DO NOT PRESS? That's how I was with a box of matches.
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