Counter Precedence

In the quiet recesses of my memory lies a tender recollection from the days of my youth—when I, a mere boy in elementary school, folded a thousand tiny paper cranes from an entire leaf of a mead notebook, each one a silent wish sent forth to brighten another’s day. Such innocent gestures marked a time when filling a desk with paper cranes on Valentine’s was a sanctioned expression of affection, a far cry from today’s cautious boundaries. Throughout life’s twists and turns, I carried this mindfulness and thoughtfulness as a guiding light, a chivalrous spark in a world too often harsh and unkind. Years later, I sent a letter and bought a ring reminiscent of the North Star, a symbol of hope and a path less traveled—though its whereabouts have since been lost, I wish its bearer peace and new beginnings. More recently, my angel discovered my GPS had been compromised during a cross-country trek, yet I found my way by intuition, navigating life much as I navigate the roads—sometimes out of step but always toward those I trust. In my work, hours of recordings lay dormant, awaiting release, fragments of a time gone by yet echoing the present. Though the years have altered my capacity, the spirit of resilience remains; my loved one once called it an angel with broken, mended wings—an apt emblem of endurance and hope amidst the passage of time.