Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Sometimes, walking in the wind, I wonder when I will find peace. I wonder if maelstroms are of my own making, divinely willed, or is it like painting by numbers or connect the dots? The same buildings are alternately golden, white, brown, gray, the same feelings get infusions of orange juice, or shots of dull brown coffee. As time goes by, the same topics fly on their merry-go-round, the clowns change their makeup, and sometimes their jokes. My work gets done at night by shoe-maker fairies.

Today, being able to milk laughter out of thin air really helped. I have missed these people, I know I am heading down some road of no return and may they be with me through it all.

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