Plucking pages from a long buried text provides a certain unusual nostagia and escape from the cruel forward flowing manner of time. Many of these memories are not very pretty, not very pleasant, but they validate an existence without a past would be merely tenous. Sometimes, our peers find a certain madness in this endless pursuit of meaning in things past, a certain narritivity. I need narratives, I need to believe in an overarching story, guiding our otherwise random lives forward. Looking to yesterdays, give me courage to believe we can comprehend tomorrows.

Sky
Avon
Dreaming Writing Believing


.link. link.




March 2009
April 2009
May 2009
June 2009
July 2009
August 2009
October 2009
January 2010
February 2010