LEFT a book.

Read about what is that is possibly missing. "Left" is a book of release, acceptance and ultimately, ending and beginnings. From differing standpoints, beliefs intents, reality and reference of residing, recompense and rescinding... Learn how most people accept, are instilled and install about what it means to let go.

[Sample:]

Left

By

D.E.Allen

@2026 D.E.Allen

Description theme:

  He wanted a life.  One where things didn't seem wrong.  That life was full of disappointments.  He was a professor of that.  He could only see the "game" being played, when everyone seemed caught.  His life he looked back at, showed people racing trying to escape their place in it.  That it was ever a socioemotional epiphany of leaving.  People took advantage of you, made themselves into labels, lifestyles, croaks, parents, in-charge or workers trying to escape destiny, debt, disaster and dependence.  That he knew all about leaving.  That in all everyone wanted to be left in so many ways of life.  And from childhood to adult he watched and was moved by the silly motivation of leaving what was a way of life.   One that he so often left in a reflective vane and that being the ultimate lone reality.

[Start:]

 Most people have a routine.  That's about life they-all expect what it is to be known without trying.  And the world-revolved around ideas-of intent, initiative and understanding.  And that would be careful and conservatory-recourse to all things human and objective.  Sylvia Commonwealth-"ruled", and they-lived to see her-retirement...  She'd grown-up always wanting to prove a-point.  That-all her friends-knew her as a grateful and motivated-individual.  And she-kept her-hair in a certain-way; dressed in a certain-way, and did make-up and decided what to do, were always-alike.  This-was that at four years-old, she was trying to understand, interpret, deciding-as a foundation.  She always seemed to be one-always moving-on to other-things.  Her reality, was that she understood and objectified; which needed-intellectual and personal-intent…

     Her parents, became her best-advocates each already knew what she wanted; and how to get it that way, didn't worry about her too much.  But friends and other family members always thought she was always ahead-of herself.  She went-on vacation with the family always wanting what she hoped to happen...  She knew everyone-else enjoyed the free-time she-wanted to take-part in other things, well into other-places or other-reasons.  Where in as a certain epiphany, she was always-right and atoning.  She attended-church on Sundays, whenever arrived always 20-minutes early to get the good-seats.  She always wanted to be the first in a-room whether it-was a concert, ball game or work…  Shannon Street, the other things were just a simple installations, solemnously gained and paid-for her-idea, intent and objective.  She-knew her parents well, by age-of 5 years old...  Then, they could-not do anything without-her already knowing its purpose and reason...   The one-thing that they all had, to do with and the leaving-life that was; and move-on.  Is that when the way to always interpret, it was now over and done-with.

   …They left a cup atop a table at the restaurant.  The glass-cup was from a last-drink.  Which Sylvia's boyfriend drank a wine-cooler.  She was 20-years old, and he was 23;.  Their-life would-change now, that they were boyfriend-and-girlfriend.  So they-went home that day, never to be the same; to do his dropping-out of the relationship.  She was getting married-years later to someone else, and she'd go-out with the girls; and had fun and become more of an open careless-person.  The guy sitting next to them, before they-left, with a beard and mustache.  He spent time-in jail several times, and now-only wanted to drink a beer and work.  His ideas would always-settle for and assume-only the "basics".  And he-wanted to be a chef in a large restaurant just-like the one they were-in.  But he wanted to do it in south of France; and doing the heavy-winters of Europe.

    A car-drove by as he was moving out of the window-seat, getting ready to pay for his-meal; they both saw Sylvia and boyfriend leave together…   The chef would-be restaurant-owner somewhere in New York, after returning home from overseas.  The sky was clearing at the New-York restaurant, where he worked everything; a North-Easter  was coming he was waiting for it, the only thing was; the rest of his crew was not, each one went about their business, as days long passed, long-come and went-into again.  That there was a purpose-of all things, everyone seems-always to have a reason to-leave things,  as a cup her serious boyfriend drank-out of was washed-by three of the restaurant-workers.  Each one had a process, that keeps glassware-clean…   Everybody's turns, temperament and all the restaurant; theirs were to be cleaned twice, then washed and steamed…  And as they were doing the last of the cleanup bringing the silverware and glassware into their respective storage places, the manager was leaving for home.  He'd be back at 6:00 a.m. recording his next menu.  And he was especially good Buffet-worker and a grand-Gourmet cook.  He won the Michelin-medallion and now he was just working as his-customers came to him, devotedly.

     As he went to sleep that night, he dreamed all about how to seat 20-people in a wedding, to have a post-dinner at his-restaurant.  He really felt-honored like someone who just said someone famous was coming to eat…  Their names we're Darla and Marlo Henderson.  They've been thinking of marriage for about 8 years ever since high school. Sylvia had been a person who worked for a while at their High School, when they were young.  Now they were fully-grown and knew what they wanted.  The rains began to fall the next day and the chef came to work.  He saw his good-sign.  He'd been years toughening-out, doing winter-with storms, ice and cold-winds and knowing that the best thing to do, is just-try to last it-out.

     …And planes flew overhead then the clouds-opened from the snow-clouds.  New York City, and the LaGuardia Airport.  It held 26-people, were all-on their way to visit-friends in New York after a long-season of one-in California, and now were ready to go back to ordinary life in their-hometown.  It was a crowded-flight that left at 4:00 a.m. and then arrived at 7:30 a.m…  It was a Delta-flight which had been flying-for some time during the day.  Arriving as the storm-subsided.  The area was clear and smooth, as it set-down and landed.  So if even  with the ever-understanding-of how people did things, even though she couldn't figure-out how it worked for herself.  And she now owned a-house near the Potomac, and now staying-there alongside her dogs, and one-son; who was to grow-up without a father but the direct-patterning as his-mother…

       She was married for 12-years, and always enjoyed-it. But it was to be where he had left-on his-own...  His name was George Harrelson and he was a good man, a good father and loving-husband…  But she knew that his-ideas about things, we're only going to get him into-trouble.  He drank, too much, didn't want to work-either; abandoning his son, his wife and his job-to pursue things out-in California.  She had a call, leaving a half-drank cup of coffee in the window-seal of her-house; after drinking-most of it, the sun was coming up as the clouds-opened.  She went to go and listen to the radio for any change of weather, or any news…  Her phone rang and she picked it up, it was her sister who was coming to town to be with her for a while.  Her whole family knew how her situation was.  But they didn't-bother to contest-it, because she was so smart and handy-"herself"...

      ….Michelle, wrote-home 3-weeks later as the snow was finally, ending for the season.  She, too liked to be in a "nice"-house.  But then she didn't try to attempt to try any new-ideas that would change her-thinking.  She, too was with a motivated-headstrong person; but called her-all the same; in how things were alluding and coming-along...  Her best abilities-will be a chef, and that cooking; was only fore-shadowed with by TV she didn't know really-about.

   Everyone had their-own reasons for doing-things, since it always tended to leave behind something which they cannot do anything-about.  That each one understood the returns as a "Marriott" and the abilities of what should-occur and how it was happen…  That's always been simple, it's a complexity that is always knowing; where something was to occur-on a regular-basis.  Afterwards, was a course and discourse-of purpose and "clarity", wasn't-for a "symbol" or "complexity".  That most-things "fell" in-between.  They-were more as a-term and embarking upon as a purpose, duty and drive.  Where meetings being-behind, were actually the most simple-portion of life.

    Sylvia, met a new male-friend named Thomas Wolse.  A man in a marketplace, he was becoming a Gourmet-cook of exquisite-food.   Things were settling-in, nicely.  Others, were all to forget that it was made-up, something in the past that was never to be seen-again.   There terms, were embraced and embarking, as that was going to be greater-times-ahead.  But everyone had to leave something behind-in some other-way, as a scenario of thought and theme.  There-as another and were but as things were to be done, and see-it as controlled; and carry-on.

   The gains and losses, are always-to be the same, that things will occur-over and over; and in some guises-of instances and alternations.  That was character, cause and cleansing-container by which needed-objectives, and ideas.  Silvia, would meet-with him again, on occasion to visit her-son and they-were to be misunderstood and misguided-by the past...  She understood she needed to control, be consistent and continue the life; with more simple and as in their simplest-terms.  But many people could not accept-on the side, that that was the way-it had to be. 

     Much was to be a reference-all set and gotten-it, but all of them for the last-time; that went-by each one, that came into their-own and therefore was no-longer needed-at as Sylvia's, the "cook" and the "plane-riders"; were all people-intertwined as something that was to be released, and never taken-again; the airport was full-of fliers…  And they were-all to take their-turn the beset airplane was to be understanding and interpreted.  What was the goal-to leave and come-back, or even-never to return; the means of them, were home to stay; and others were just taking-off, never to come-back; but for sometime.  Any of them, were stuck and started-in them.  Held-by exchange and identity-of liberal and enjoined-terms...

     There was a "trouble", and to go to causes of which-anybody knew.  And each had to "feel"-upon their-own.  That some will be dying in a crash and other things, are to be worthy and still-have no-wings as what it meant to them, without any true-significance…  That was-all to be a sustaining-occurrence and event...  And life has ways of throwing you curb-balls and change-ups...  You always have to be the player, who goes the extra-mile.  The society and decision-always "perishable", and peremptory.  That has caused and chorus-retook and regained, itself and ever-changing-intertwining; the line, and what is "real", must compare and compose-ourself...is it to ingraining great-things yet things happened.  Everybody has a self as a code of division-in the rising.  You run parallel and across-things with your own making, and we decide whether it is reason-enough.