Rooftops or treetops - which is the hotter heat island?

The cursor flashes, a sideways unibrow mocking me, daring me to show that honesty is the best policy.

But I'm a storyteller, I tell the cursor, which cannot hear or think, meaning I talk to myself, instead.

I have the licence to fib, to stretch the truth, to hide facts in innuendo and nuance.

I am not a journalist.

I am a person sitting here putting finger to key, one at a time, for almost 40 years now (and stylus to paper for much longer).

A narrator coaxes the reader forward, leaving thought trail crumbs that may or may not be picked up later on.

Ignore that which I do not explicitly or implicity spin into my web, the writer says.

But what about a thought trail that has sat there unattended for longer than I, the simultaneous writer/reader, thought I could remember with ease?

Facts don't lie although what we see in the facts is not the truth.

How much can two lives parallel each other without crossing?

And when they do, what then?

An intersection of two lines/lives is a point.

Lines point off in infinite directions from a point.

What is the point of the point?

A meeting of the minds, we used to say, when mind was something we minded and kept in mind before there was nothing in mind to mind anymore.

Two sets of thoughts, let's say in modern parlance, temporarily passing through one another, demonstrating the cause-and-effect that a superset may imply unintentionally.

If A=B and A=C, then can you safely assume that B=C?

I can't, because I'm not sure what A is.

But it shouldn't matter whether I know what A stands for, right?

Let's say, also, that B is a domestic lifestyle with which I'm wholly familiar and I can tell from here that C is about the same.

Do I know that A is truly equivalent by inference?

"Experiment and test" is the conclusive phrase that gels in my thoughts and reaches this blog entry while the Well-Tempered Synthesizer reaches my ears from the laptop computer speakers.

Results to follow.