Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.
There ought, I thought, to be a ritual for being born twice - patched, retreaded and approved for the road.
Joy:show joy & enjoy: then others will be joyful.
A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.
Feel oddly barren. My sickness is when words draw in their horns and the physical world refuses to be ordered, recreated, arranged and selected. I am a victim of it then, not a master.
Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.