

Or liver looped and lost in a gut-wrenching cacophony of self-justification which defies any sensible consideration. The buses are running. Maybe they’ve got somewhere to go? Meanwhile…
To be or not to be? The ego is ever dependent on the tension of opposites, yet there is no I twixt the hammer and the anvil, no middle way, nor even traction. Swallows migrate. The Sphinx rests content.
More now than ever has been known, we are globally held together in our aloneness. When doing becomes restricted, we are faced with the greater measure of being, profound in its potential. Taking time out takes out time; infinities await.
Love defined is a love commodified and confined. There are greater things...
Where dreams end, life begins. Hope never got the washing-up done.
NEWSLETTER