So much on my mind, but can’t find time to write. A whirlwind tour to a small town and then a funeral. Sometimes life comes in big packages, and when you open you get a surprise, a small surprise hiding inside the tinsel paper and be-ribboned box. That small surprise magnifies to fill your life, to consume you with worry. It’s good I have a blog where I can take it all off. Sort of wash myself and my linen clean.
“We all carry around so much pain in our hearts. Love and pain and beauty. They all seem to go together like one little tidy confusing package. It’s a messy business, life. It’s hard to figure – full of surprises. Some good. Some bad.”
– Henry Bromel
Such is life. As they say in French, cest la vie. I don’t know French. Correct my ignorance, show me my insolence. I studied Sanskrit instead. I wish I could have studied both, seeing as how much I miss French classics and old French writers. Well, Paris is where all writers want to be going to seed and vegetating. Me too.