a gentle counterpoint to the relentless pursuit of progress…
journal entries
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The candlelight flickers and I’m alone again, in the center, a new beginning among the ordinary…
I don’t know what I’m searching for but each time I find it I’m filled with a knowing that is older than the stolen fruit…
waiting, waiting, waiting for some sorry soul to come looking, so she can go knocking at a home that been emptied in search of some place warm and dry, another eye roll from our dear friend…