Reading Hemingway

Sometimes the weight of the world feels like a Hemingway story - like carrying around a heavy load buried deep in a weary mind. Too much wanted, too little given. Time is running out I know, and there's a terrible thirst within my soul - So take me down to the river, let me have a drink, please, don't judge how much I need, how much I lack, or how much I take... - If only I could read Hemingway better... comprehend what is more, and what is less; say the words that carry no verbiage, sing the song that needs no tune, and see the vision that requires no eyes, then, maybe, I'd know. Yes, Hemingway makes me want to drink. Not just the thirst of my stomach, but the drought of my soul, that besides me, only God and Hemingway really notice. - If only I could read Hemingway better, then perhaps I could quench that endless thirst, for the desire that life lacks.