the seventh-week-(gl)itch

shouldn't life be as carefree as floating in mid-air?
it's a choke hold here!

help me find the way.

the skies
overcast and gray

to make hay

while still bright
is the day.

even when it means saying nay!

the humble abode

a house which was once a home.

in the absence of contents dear to the heart.

leaves nothing but an empty, desolate shell.

who can tell?

there's no other place , not even Rome.

called home, only in the presence of the beloved.

a feeling no body can tear apart.

in loving memory of #150@f-7

why is a raven like a writing desk?

Lewis Carroll:

'Because it can produce a few notes, tho they are very flat, and it is nevar put the wrong end in front!'

can't wait to get them papers done with! 

fight the good fight!

Herzen Alexander:

Life has taught me to think, but thinking has not taught me to live.

Live.

don't think too much.

Sting: 

Many miles away there's a shadow on the door of a cottage on the Shore of a dark Scottish lake.