@journeytodiscovery
After years of uncertainty of purpose, I was finally there as directed by the man by the wayside. A really queer fellow with little words that spoke volumes-unforgettable, his words.
He had said get to the little door down the street and around the corner and you'll be told what to do. And there I stood, at the little door, rough, bristly, and hardened by years of hardship, waiting to be let in. after what seemed to be hours, I impatiently pushed and felt the slightest movement beneath my hands: it was open! Still annoyed at with myself for waiting so long, I stepped in about a half-yard inside with a hand on the door to keep it open.
It was dark, gloomy, and hazy; quietly strange, and could barely hold three men-two would be comfortable. It smelled of tears, blood,and sweat, so pungent that I could taste and feel the smell in my being.No chair, desk, pen, paper, or stationary of any kind. No lighting, no gadgets, or electrical appliance lay nearby. The only furniture was a small rounded rug at the center of the room. The room looked like a stolen shack from the sixteenth century-old and hardy.
I wondered why I was directed here and a Voice like thunder...