Starting With the End

As a young avid reader I always read the Introduction or Prologue, when offered, to see if this treatise overture would take me some place I cared to wade through. As an old avid reader I always begin with the last chapter because I may not otherwise have time to get there and because its always offered, eventually, and here I listen to learn if it might transport me to some place I care about and believe in and might even faithfully hope for; a place I have not yet been promising a pause in wonder about where I might be now had I only visited earlier. Biographies are especially telling as the end where history has brought each writer to remember what these assembled lives and thoughts have become together and are now replete unfolded for all to see and rediscover how extremes of final stages like shared nascence of embryonic birth and infant interests seem to land as we began withdrawn from adolescent and middle-aging fuss and blunder, both respectability and revolutionary thunder, so good in our coming to, and escape from, ripe time now echoing warnings to start and end each new narrative's last chapter first. I might not have time to invest in earlier stages of this story's redevelopment, especially if the last chapter doesn't sound at least as healthy wealthy as my own last day and night so far, which I probably should plan to finish writing soon.