icicles in the snow like the clawprints of some great winged beast hiding just outside the circle of light waiting in shadows for me to stop moving to slow down to make that one fatal mistake of letting down my guard closing my eyes and letting the darkness in. but I'm standing still and staring at the ground for you see I'm bigger than that giant I flipped the switch.

Dichotosectomy

I'm screaming yelling, shouting, dancing for joy and weeping sorrow-filled tears. Yet here I sit, quiet and still:

Relishing the silence of my own creation.

our shared inheritance

"He snatched up a heavy bronze from the mantelpiece -- a beautiful thing, even as he snatched it, his fingers caressed the patina -- and the impulse seized him to smash the mirror and smash the face -- to break out in howls and animal gestures.

Silly! One could not do that. The inherited inhibitions of twenty civilized centuries tied one hand and foot in bonds of ridicule. What if he did smash the mirror? Nothing would happen."

-Dorothy L. Sayers

I want to watch the sun rise. Not like every other morning where I rush about getting ready for the day, being prepared, making it all mean something. Just to sit and watch the sun rise and know that that has meaning. That life is ok because the sun is rising and I can sit and see it. In the quiet. Alone but not lonely.

I just want to watch the sun rise and know there is a world with you in it.

I wish I could photograph quiet.

but then my life kicks in.

I sometimes feel that I'm borrowing other people's emotions. That I can have no idea of the specific pain of an event unless I, myself, have experienced it. But that's not true. The range of human emotion is only identifiable because it is shared by all humanity. We all know, in some form, pain and sorrow and joy and love, even if only as a dream. It's what makes us create and destroy; the basis of society and anarchy the same. Just as there is no reason for fear, there is no reason for hope. And yet they are. Because we are.

and at the end of a sunlit day the dark is just the same before a rain-soaked dawn.

of course

wonderful sunshine at last, and all I'm dying for is a thunderstorm.

"There was a sweet smell of approaching rain. Another flash and crash; a swift gust of wind; and then the swish and rush of falling water, the gurgle of overflowing gutters, and peace." -Dorothy L. Sayers

M1

so how are you?

21:07Me

ummmmm

I'm not sure, actually

a little stressed, a little tired, a little worried, and a little all right

but mostly I'm alive.