Everytime i have turned the page he re-enters my life as awkward as postscript

Fennel, which is the spice for Wednesdays, the day of averages, of middle-aged people. . . . Fennel . . . smelling of changes to come.

Expectations are like hidden rocks in your path , All they do is trip you up

Or is this how humans survive, shrugging off history, immersing themselves in the moment?

But maybe as I get older, I begin to see beauty where I least expected it before.

I saw something I hadn't realized before: words wasted energy. I would use my strength instead to nurture my belief that my life would unfurl uniquely.

...don't create snakes out of ropes. You have enough to worry about.